The Soldier and the Doctor
by thesoldiermormont
Summary: Set before, during and after The Winter Soldier. HYDRA hires Mallory Smith, a doctor and daughter to a HYDRA agent, to tend to the wounds of their assassin between missions. Mallory quickly becomes intrigued with the mysterious Soldier and enthralled with the charms of STRIKE agent Brock Rumlow and is caught up in the midst of a decades old conspiracy to take control of the world.
1. Call Her Now

Sampson Smith was a good man. At least he believed he was a good man.

He was raised in a backwater Texan county, the youngest child in a family of seven. He was overlooked, undereducated and unappreciated. A young Sampson Smith was a lonely bookish boy. However he was raised in a household that had three strong morals; always stand your ground, believe in America and do the best for your family. Although his siblings had ignored these values and gotten themselves arrested for burglary or shot or married to some nagging wife/cheating husbands, young, ill-treated Sampson Smith had became the only member of the Smith family to attend college and receive a job which paid higher then $20k a year. So naturally he'd moved away and only spoken to them when his parents had died to attend the funeral.

He had married young to a good, dutiful if slightly dull wife named Julia who was proud of her high flying, S.H.I.E.L.D agent husband. They'd had one child; a daughter no less whom they named Mallory after the hotel in which she'd been conceived. They raised her in the suburbs of the capital of his country, her childhood overshadowed by the absences of her father from her brief piano recitals, even briefer gym meets and her college graduation ceremony. He knew his sweet Mallory had understood. And he was there right after her first day at the hospital, congratulating her with a bouquet of her favourite flowers – lilies – and a brand new Mini Cooper spray painted purple, her favourite colour. She sold it a year later to fund herself on the pretense that she was only contributing to carbon emissions. That was the kind of daughter he had raised and he was proud despite his absence.

He believed he was a good man. He'd believed it when he'd gotten the job at S.H.I.E.L.D, when he'd been promoted to be directly under the mastermind of Project INSIGHT, the boss of bosses, Alexander Pierce. He'd also believed it when he was told about the values of HYDRA and they'd struck a cord with him. He believed it when Pierce's face lit up the first time he had shaken his hand, pulled him for a hug and whispered "Hail Hydra." in his ear. This lead to his induction on the secret Department X and his steady position as Director of Operations.

Currently he was sitting in his bosses offices, knees shaking from nervousness. Had he done something wrong? Pierce normally dealt with failures with a bullet to the head, not a face to face chat. The office reminded him of his boss. The sharp-angled glass desk topped with the high tech glass computer monitor, and the glass interface on the wall was very reminiscent of the cold, reflective nature of Pierce. You could stare into those eyes, the edges crinkled with crows feet and feel your the reflection of your soul staring back at you. If he liked what he saw, you went far. If he didn't, then you joined the ranks of failed HYDRA operatives which consisted of a list of names marked out by a black pen.

His boss entered suddenly and gracefully sat, motioning for Smith to relax on the uncomfortable chair. His boss always did things gracefully. No that word was wrong. There was something off about Pierce's grace; he was too stiff, too controlled to be properly graceful. Everything about Pierce was controlled; his hair, his emotions, his personal life. Smith tried to relax but it seemed impossible, his body fraught with tension and fear.

As per usual, Pierce got straight down to business. There was no time for pleasantries with Pierce.

"Smith, I need you to hire me a doctor. The last one quit due to- "His fingers raised to slash the air viciously. "-'emotional stress'. I swear these young 'uns can't handle a damn thing."

Smith laughed but it was too high, too fake. Dr. Harriet, the doctor who had recently 'quit' was a stone cold woman with an unmoving face and a stone heart. She didn't have any emotional stress. "Any requirements, sir? Young, old, blind mute?"

His boss clicked his tongue. "None of that matters any more. They just need to be good at what they do. Four years experience in the field, at least. And someone we can trust." His boss's eyes sharpened, his fists tightening to illustrate his point. "That is imperative."

His boss looked at him with those cold eyes, attempting the vaguest semblance of a smile. Smith swallowed tightly, and then smiled back tightly, the picture in his head of their new employee forming. It made him feel sick to even entertain to the notion. The universe was sick to make him think of her.

She had her mothers hair, long, unkempt, brown. Her eyes were brown as well, the same colour as the last mouthful of Jack Daniels in a whiskey glass. She was short and frail looking, her skin pale from her long shifts at the hospital and a lack of social life due to her long term romantic struggles. He'd been on the phone to her not last night, as she was crying over her redundancy from the hospital. The recession had hit them hard and she was scared over how she was going to pay her bills and feed and keep herself warm this winter. He had assured he would help out if she needed but she'd cried all the same. His sweet meek Mallory. Could he be that desperate to please Pierce?

"Smith?"

Yes he could. "I have someone sir, but... I'm not sure if it's ethical."

"Ethical? Don't skirt around your words. Out with it." Pierce said, the human infliction of confusion overtaking his normally solid voice.

Smith swallowed; he knew Pierce hated hesitation. "I have someone in mind. She doesn't have four years experience but I guarantee she will do well. She graduated top of her medical class at Yale and has performed above par in a working medical environment. Alongside that, she's trustworthy and flexible with her time – no distracting commitments, like children or boyfriends or a dog."

Pierce's expression was unreadable even if he huffed a laugh at the dog comment and lent back in his chair. "She sounds perfect. Too perfect Who is she?"

"Sir the only problem I can think you might have is that... well... she's my daughter, Mallory. Although I know she won't be in the front lines – I have that guarantee – maybe Barnes might pose a risk to her-"

Pierce waved his hand in the air, dismissing the query. "Barnes poses no risk unless your daughter directly engages him. Which in the circumstances is incredibly unlikely. I'd go as far to say it's impossible. The man is a brick wall for human interaction." He paused and his next statement sounded like an expletive. "Hell! Maybe the family connection could be an advantage... still, we'll have her sign all the legal documentation... are you certain she can be trusted with something like this?"

He pictured his daughter, his sweet daughter who had cried and cried on the phone. The sound of her voice rang in his head, her choking sobs and cracked voice. And he nodded.

"Mallory is a smart girl, extremely smart and she's... impressionable. Before you know it, you'll have a brand new HYDRA agent on your hands."

Pierce smiled; Smith froze. He'd never seen him smile before.

"Excellent. Call her now, and ask her if she wants to come in for an interview." His voice posed no opportunity to oppose him. Smith was suddenly unsure, but he nodded and pulled out his mobile. He found Mallory on his iPhone contact list, her name followed by a symbol of a little girl and two love hearts. She had had done that, implemented the contacts on her phone. His little girl. He hesitated, before glancing at Pierce's cold eyes and sighing, knowing he was defeated. He pressed dial and the phone rang twice before she picked up.

"Hi sweetie, it's Dad. Listen I wanted to ask you something..."

As he watched his bosses reflection in the glass window that overlooked the facility where the Soldier was being held, he would've sworn the smile turned into a smirk filled with evil.

A/N: So instead of finishing my other fic, I watched Winter Soldier and started this. I wanted to pay homage to the Winter Soldier who didn't nearly get enough screentime in my opinion. I wanted to explore the dangerous medical field of memory wipes and how he must've remembered some things before seeing Steve on the bridge. I also got the idea that before and after missions, the Soldier gets medical attention before going back to sleep. Thus, Mallory Smith was born. As mentioned in the summary this will be set before, during and a little bit after the movie and it will feature cameos from the characters in the movie. So please tell me what you think so far!


	2. Interview with a Shark

At the same exact moment, almost ten miles away in a tiny apartment in the city, Dr. Mallory Smith was installed on her couch watching a Game of Thrones marathon on HBO to catch up before the new season started.

Unemployed people have an advantage over employed people she reasoned; they have time to eat junk food during the day, they can drink at eleven o'clock in the morning (although in the company of others this generally raises eyebrows) and they can marathon seasons of television on TV and Netflix that they wouldn't normally have time to watch amongst work and friends. Mallory Smith was doing all three of these things – there was a bowl of warmed butter-drenched popcorn sitting in her lap, a glass of rum and coke positioned near her left foot and the TV was blaring the Game of Thrones theme as it launched into the next episode. She'd never seen it before. Work was so hectic as she'd been working ridiculous hours, that it denied her the pure pleasure of quality television but now she'd finally had the chance to catch up on the show she now could say she loved. The incest, the sex, the murder, the politics... it was a form of escapism that she'd been indulging in for what seemed like minutes but was in fact four hours into season three.

The phone was beside her but on silent in case anything exciting happened on Twitter or someone emailed her back from her thousands of job applications and all the lights were off in her small city apartment. Usually it was clean and neat, but today blankets were strewn around Mallory's frame and cushions supported her back from the horrible feel of the suede couch behind her. She was dressed in her version of pajamas, stripy shorts and her ex-boyfriends band t-shirt that she had kept, alongside a large cardigan her father had bought her. Feeling an ache in her butt, Mallory placed the bowl aside and drew her legs up, rearranging her position on the sofa so she was comfortable for the next episode. The theme tune began to draw to a close and the episode started.

In the dark however, a bright light caught her attention. Her phone, although on silent, was aglow from a phone call from her father. His face popped up on screen, taken at a family barbeque at her aunties house. Sighing, Mallory reluctantly stabbed the pause button on the remote and pressed the green symbol on the screen.

"Hello?"

Her father sounded breathless when he answered. "Hi sweetie, it's Dad. Listen I wanted to ask you something-"

Mallory interrupted, laughing. "Dad, I know it's you. Caller I.D, remember?"

She had explained it thousands of times, yet it seemed her dad had forgotten once again.

Her father laughed once, although it was short lived. "I wanted to ask you about work."

Straight down to business... so unlike her father. Usually he liked to chew the fat before he dove into the real stuff. Concerned, Mallory sat up and inadvertently knocked her rum and coke over on the wooden floor.

"Oh shit! Hey, Dad hold on, I gotta clean this up." Diving up, Mallory avoided the lethal mixture pooling on her floor and ran into the kitchen. She stuck the phone between her shoulder and head and grabbed a dishcloth.

"Sweetie, this is important-"

She didn't hear him. "One minute, I'll be right back."

She left the phone on the counter and switched the light on as she raced back into the living room. Her small, homely apartment was suddenly lit with a harsh yellow light, making the sofa seem a darker brown then it was. Her floors were wooden, and her walls were cream apart from the exposed brick wall that held the small fireplace filled with old logs that she never used. Her TV was the latest flat screen, a moving present from her parents alongside her Mac laptop, iPad fast internet connection and state of the art docking system which had a stereo in all of her rooms, which was a grand total of three. The living room was the biggest, as it also doubled as her bedroom. Up two steps and right at the back, bordered by a waist-sized wall was her double bed, fitted with cream sheets. Next to that was the desk which held her laptop and iPad and a stack of medical journals, half of which she had helped to author. The kitchen was a box, stuffy and impossible for two people to move in, the bathroom smaller still. She'd had to make do with no bath, just a shower and a sink and a toilet. It was a nice apartment, on the cheaper side in the city, just a little small and a little bare at the moment. Soon, she reasoned, soon she would fill it with relics of her life that would make her smile as she passed them reminding her of happier times. Soon.

But right now she was soaking up the stain on her wooden floor. The dishcloth absorbed the brownish liquid and she carried the sodden cloth back to the kitchen gingerly as if it was diseased, before picking up the phone again. Her father was yelling at her, from the small tinny voice that grew louder as she placed it back to her ear.

"Mallory! Are you there? Did you break up?"

It seemed he had not heard about her admission that he was on hold and Mallory couldn't be bothered to explain her clumsiness. "Yeah Dad. The connection is fine. What were you saying?"

She walked back into the living room and settled on the sofa, as her dad began to speak slowly as if he was talking to a child. She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, then remembered he couldn't see her over the line.

"Sweetie have you been offered any work? Been looking, applied anywhere?"

She laughed. "Dad, I was made redundant like yesterday. I was enjoying the spoils of unemployment. I have emailed my credientials around, though." Her gaze fell upon the popcorn and she reached over, scooped up a handful and stuffed it in her mouth.

"I have an interview arranged for you."

She choked. Instantly, Mallory began to cough and splutter up kernels and half-chewed white popcorn buds. Tears began to stream down her face, adding to her already smudged eyeliner and mascara.

"Mallory? Sweetie are you there-"

Mallory banged her chest and breathed deeply, trying to control herself. "Yeah – yeah Dad I'm here. An interview you said? Who with? Whereabouts?"

"With my workplace." He sounded nervous. "Well actually... anyway, can you be ready for the car in ten minutes?"

This was too fast for her mind to register. Literally five minutes ago she was getting ready enjoy more of her latest crush Jon Snow brood around the castle of the Nights Watch. Now she was being bombarded with interviews and cars and times. Too much information in a short amount of time, she reasoned, as her throat ached.

"What? Dad, I need details and explanations." Inwardly, she added _because I've been drinking. _

He sighed, attempting to keep himself calm. "This agency I work for needs this position filled now. My boss would like to interview you as soon as possible and because of the secretive nature of the job, we'll be sending a car to drive you to an undisclosed location. I'll ask again, when can you be ready for the car?"

She knew little of her father's work, only that he was high up in the spy agency S.H.I.E.L.D which had had a direct hand in the business in New York a year and a half ago. His missions were very secretive and the mere notion of having a job at the same workplace as her father was exciting to her curious side. However, her confused side prevailed.

"Dad, what position is it? You know I can't do spy work." The image of her in a catsuit attempting to tumble was amusing; Mallory was the most nonviolent person she knew, and also incredibly nonathletic. It had taken her years to shimmy up the rope in gym class, and she was pretty sure her running shoes had grown a special type of fungi from how long they'd been stuffed in the back of her wardrobe.

"Sweetie, it's a medicinal position." She heard a sharp crack and someone yelling at her father- was that the boss who was going to interview her? _Well he sounds like a load of fun._ "I can't say much more."

Mallory looked down at her butter-drenched t-shirt and for the first time in hours she could smell the stench of a person who hadn't washed or slept properly in a while. She rubbed her eyes and eyed the chewed popcorn which she'd spat out after she'd choked – it had landed in the popcorn bowl, a vision of disgust amongst food so heavenly it could make her cry on hormonal days. Suddenly her stomach churned and she looked away from the bowl. Appetite lost, she switched the TV off and felt a sudden burst of motivation to get her life back together.

"Yeah. I can come. Just give me an hour and a half to make myself look decent, okay?"

Her father sighed so audibly with relief she smiled at his voice. "Thank you, sweetie. The car will be there at 2pm sharp so be ready. I love you."

"Love you too. Any advice for the interview?"  
There was a pause, and her father sucked in his breath before saying, "Don't mumble."

The phone clicked off suddenly, and Mallory felt the nerves kick in.

At 2pm sharp, as promised, a black SUV pulled up outside her apartment. Mallory, already sitting on the steps outside, stood up, smoothed down her skirt and looked on in alarm as a solider brandishing an assault rifle and combat boots strode towards her.

She had showered, shaved, straightened and scrubbed herself to a presentable state but suddenly, she felt overdressed. Her hair hung down her back in a straight uniformed line, the long tendrils of hair that usually danced in her vision restrained with pins. Mallory had spritzed herself with her expensive Christmas perfume that smelt faintly of flowers, and dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her shoes were an appropriate height, stacked heel so she could walk and her pantyhose was one of the few pairs which she hadn't laddered immediately after purchase. Her makeup was reapplied – the natural look and when she'd remembered she was going for an interview with S.H.I.E.L.D, she'd gave in to the impulse to apply heavy eyeliner with strong flicks to suggest she could also be a strong and bad ass woman like the infamous Black Widow whom was one of the few operative she knew was working for S.H.I.E.L.D – and she even she had to admit she looked pretty decent.

"Ma'am, please step into the car."

The soldier was generic looking, square jaw, cap and aviators. He wore black fatigues and an unreadable expression. Mallory was sure she wouldn't be able to recognize him if she ever saw him again, even face to face like this – he was indistinguishable amongst his similar looking comrades which she could see in the drivers seat of the vehicle. The only indication he was from S.H.I.E.L.D and not a thug was the familiar insignia and the letters that spelled out what the acronym actually stood for. Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. She didn't even know what that meant really.

"Can you tell me were we're going?"

The soldier just looked at her as if she was stupid. Mallory gave up and stepped into the back of the SUV. She was enclosed in darkness, the windows of the SUV blacked out on both sides. The drivers portion was the only window that she could see out of, but a screen rolled up from nowhere blocked the drivers view into the back seat. The generic S.H.I.E.L.D solider climbed in with her and sat too close for her liking. Uncomfortable, Mallory pulled out her phone and resisted the rebellious urge to start playing on Angry Birds with the volume up just to see what his reaction would be. Instead, she merely played with her hands like a child, and traced patterns on the window.

The drive was an hour judging from her phone clock. The soldier didn't answer any of Mallory's probing questions so she gave up. In the first twenty minutes he didn't seem to move at all so Mallory made him her next staring project to amuse herself. If he noticed her unruly gaze, he didn't seem to mind. Half an hour in, he turned his head and shifted in the seat. Forty minutes in he settled his gaze on Mallory and didn't remove it until five minutes later, after Mallory steadily ignored the itching his gaze gave her by glancing out of the black window as if she could see. As the fifty ninth minute passed, the car suddenly stopped. Someone knocked on the window and the soldier pressed his lips together, turning to Mallory almost guilty. It was nice to see an expression other than an absolute blank on his face.

"I'm sorry, Miss Smith to have to do this but you must now we're acting under your father's orders. Its for your own protection."

"What? What are you talking about-"

The soldier produced a black bag, akin to the one a hostage would be forced to wear by their captors before Mallory could yelp in surprise, he'd thrown it around her head like a lasso. Her world suddenly became dark, warm and stuffy.

"Hey! Get me out of this thing!" Cold metal cuffed her hands together and she was helped out of the car roughly by what she presumed was the soldier and the driver. She struggled all the way from the car to the door, unable to see a thing through the stitching of the black bag no matter how much she squinted or moved her head.

"HYDRA agent Franz." A male voice grunted. Mallory shifted and someone shook her roughly to stop her from struggling. _HYDRA? What's HYDRA? I thought this was S.H.I.E.L.D..._

"Access granted." A mechanical female voice answered, and Mallory was pulled into a room, where the doors slammed shut and something began to power up. She could feel the ground whizzing away beneath her and that same sense of gravity whipping away that she always felt in an elevator. This elevator was going down, deep down in the bunker of something to do with S.H.I.E.L.D or HYDRA. She was guessing HYDRA was an even secreter sub-division of the agency her dad worked for. Then again this was all guesswork. She wouldn't know until she was in that interview.

Mallory silenced herself and her curiosity and allowed herself to be plunged down for the ride. The mechanical voice suddenly announced they were in the 'Department X'. Frowning beneath her bag, the bag was yanked off her head to reveal a dark and gloomy place, yet her eyes still hurt as they readjusted with her surroundings. The cuffs around her wrist clicked as the agent darted behind her to free her and she saw her dad coming towards her.

Once she was free, her heels clacked aggressively as she strode towards him. "You absolute... bastard!" Forgetting she was in public, she shoved him with both hands and enough force to demonstrate her anger.

"Sweetie, I can explain-"

"That man had me in handcuffs! And by your orders?" She looked around. "What the hell is this place?"

Another voice answered from behind her. "This is Department X." And then he answered her next silent question as she spun to face him, "And I am Alexander Pierce."

Pierce was a very old man, dressed in an obviously expensive suit that stood out from the bland background because it was so colourful. His face was normal however; pale and wrinkled, with shark-like eyes that peered over his black glasses, a mouth set permanently to unkindly amusement and hair so obviously dyed it was clearly done by an amateur. Mallory, slightly shell-shocked at the sudden derailing of events, shook the hand he offered and stepped back, a little stunned at his interruption. His hand was dry and wrinkly and reminded her of a leather book, aged and filled with forgotten wisdom.

"You must have questions, Dr. Smith."

Mallory nodded dumbly. "A fair few."

Pierce glanced at her father, and back to Mallory. "Perhaps we can talk alone. Follow me Miss Smith."

With a final scathing glare to her father that indicated her conversation with him wasn't over, Mallory followed Pierce to his office. The office was an aptly sized glass room overlooking the large auditorium sized room where various men and women in white coats scurried like ants to perform tasks on large metal benches, with scientific looking instruments. As a doctor and former high school student that had despised Chemistry, she could recognize some of the instruments. Parts of an MRI scanner here, big glass tubes filled with bubbling liquids there. But most were unfamiliar; big ugly contraptions of wires and screens and technicians and scientists yelling at the inanimate objects and each other. She'd assumed that they'd look at her with curiousity but instead she noted downright hostility directed towards her. Nervous, she sped her pace to keep up with Pierce.

"Take a seat."

There was only one seat opposite his desk, and unlike Pierce's large and comfortable looking office chair, the white leather looked hard and uncomfortable. Mallory sat down and crossed her legs demurely, praying that she wasn't flashing her Wonder Woman underwear, a factor which would most surely lose her application of the job.

"Now Dr. Smith you are the only interviewee I have for this job. From what your father has said about you, we're expecting great things from you."

Mallory had had enough of the secrecy and lent forwards, frowning. "Look Mr Pierce I mean no disrespect but... I don't even know what job I'm applying for. So if you'd please-"

He talked over her as if she hadn't spoken, dismissively and arrogantly. "If you pass the interview, your job will be simple. You'll work irregular shifts but not long ones – three, four hours at the most. When you're needed for his treatment, you'll work as long as it takes to get the job done. Your pay packet will be double you received at your hospital, along with the usual benefits of a pension, health insurance etc. You'll receive armored vehicles driving you to and from here, round the clock security of your home and a clearance level four on all of S.H.I.E.L.D databases."

Stunned, Mallory lapsed into silence. He had rattled off her benefits like a checklist and the job was now officially too good to be true. Double what she'd received at the hospital _and _four hour shifts when she was called in? Something wasn't right here. They wanted something off her… like a kidney or her ovaries.

"I don't... I don't... Mr Pierce you still didn't tell me what I'll be doing."

He didn't like this. His back straightened and he clasped his hands together over the desk. The shark eyes deepened and suddenly Mallory was aware of every imperfection on her body, the scar on her wrist from where she'd broken her arm elongating, the brown in her hair dulling. The sudden feeling of inadequacy was overwhelming and she felt like he was holding her underwater, and the only way she'd be free to suck a lungful of the refreshing air was if she accepted to do whatever he said.

"Dr. Smith, for this job I have three requirements of you. One, an agreement to sign an injunction which legally prevents you from discussing any aspect of your work to anybody in a legal or informal status unless they have also signed an injunction or are participating in the same work. Two, ultimate and complete obedience and competency in every aspect of your work. And three... you address me as sir, and sir only."

Reeling from these demands, Mallory tried to gain power in the conversation. "So you can't tell me any details of the work unless I sign this injunction? Even before I've been denied or accepted from the job?"

Pierce smiled although the shark eyes remained. He was starting to creep her out. "Precisely."

Mallory swallowed and nodded once, the decision making itself. The job was too good to turn down, even if it had a weird boss. She had dealt with weird bosses before. "I'll sign it."

He produced a cardboard file and passed her a pen; she opened the file and signed her name on the dotted line after skimming through the legal stuff written in tiny print. Her signature seemed loopier then normal, the y curling around itself, the S double the size of the rest of her print. Her hand was shaking slightly. In one second, she had signed over her right to moan about her future job on Twitter like she had done at the hospital. It seemed a small price to pay, for healthcare and a ridiculous pay packet and short hours. She still didn't know what the job was but surely it couldn't be that bad? A feeling of dread enveloped her but she banished it away to smile at Pierce.

Pierce smiled, the shark eyes finally leaving to her relief. "Good. Now, follow me."

He lead her out of the office, back down the stairs and through the weaving throng of scientists and technicians. Mallory tried to avoid the eyes on her, sharp with judgment and hostility. She stumbled over a wire on the floor out of nerves and heard a hoot of laughter that burned her cheeks red. Pierce merely glanced behind at her and pushed open a set of double doors near the back away from the people.

Here they stood in an empty corridor, filled only with two armored guards outside a large metal door. Pierce led her down and opened an invisible panel near the door.

"Alexander Pierce."

"Voice recognized."

He pushed his eye towards the panel and a bright light shot out and seemed to scan his eye. "Retinal scan complete. Hello, sir."

Even the mechanical voice knew how to address him. That was pure power, Mallory mused, finding herself in a sudden feeling of admiration, when the A.I called you sir. The door clicked, the light above it flicked from red to green and Pierce led her into a cold room, filled with cold things.

It was a wide room, occupied only by a large jagged machine reminding her of a dentists chair, wires springing from it attached to complicated monitors. The seat of the chair was empty and to the left of the machine was a flat bed in the shape of a capsule, the curved glass cover attached to another menagerie of machines that beeped continuously, showing vitals and other important things. Inside the transparent bed was a man.

Mallory knew her jaw had dropped open.

Pierce answered her silent question. "This is the project we've been running since the last World War ended. Mallory Smith, meet the Winter Soldier, our perfect assassin."

"Assassin?" This was too much. The butter from the popcorn had made her delusional and combined with the headache from the rum she was hallucinating this entire thing. Her feet took her towards the glass coffin, where the male slept on. He looked dead but the monitors bleeped on so she knew he wasn't.

"HYDRA is a special sub-division of S.H.I.E.L.D. We deal with assassinating the world leaders, drug cartels, pirate lords and even sometimes rogue agents who will or have become a major problem and could or have caused the death of thousands. The dirty work in a nutshell." So she was right about the sub-division thing. "This man here-" Pierce rapped on the glass; the man did not stir. "- is responsible for keeping the peace around the world for the last seventy years or so."

Her mouth was most definitely open. He continued.

"The Winter Soldier programme has been in development since the end of the World War. After extensive research, we found the exact candidate who agreed to go through with the experimental procedure. The work is psychologically draining, so he agreed to undergo regular memory wipes to protect himself and us in the event of capture and eliminating any possibility of his betrayal."

"Memory wipes? I hadn't realized that technology was possible yet."

"It's been possible since 1945, Dr. Smith" He seemed to relish in her amazement and folded his arms. "Our man here should be the symbol of American freedom instead of the eagle. Unfortunately the work is secret so he doesn't get the recognition he so rightly deserves. But perhaps he can get the treatment he deserves."

He meant her. She folded her arms. "Why do you need me?"

"Between missions we keep him in cryo-sleep at his request, to keep him mentally and physically healthy between missions. We will need you to come in every day to run tests for three to four hours to assure he's in shape and healthy." He assessed her with that shark like look. "When we need him for a mission, you will be tasked to bring him out cryo-sleep, test his mental and physical aptitude and deem him fit for missions. When he comes home, you will repair any of his injuries, assist with the memory wipes and put him back to sleep. In a nutshell, Miss Smith, you will be the judge for whether our Soldier here gets to save lives or not. Without a person like you, the Winter Solider programme wouldn't be possible."

Mallory was stunned, then gestured to the machines. "I don't know anything about that kind of stuff."

"Its basic doctor examination work. The machines are simple – designed like televisions really, with preset tests to run and easy interface to modify your own tests. We'll show you how it all works."

Mallory then walked over to the glass coffin. Her eyes fell upon the man, and she felt that sympathy she always felt in the hospital for the sicker patients, the ones with no hope and she knew she so desperately wanted to help it.

"If you want the job Miss Smith, it's yours."

She walked over to him, and sighed. "But we didn't even run through the interview-"

"I'm a busy man, Miss Smith, I don't have time for interviews. Most people live and die in an unremarkable way, without making a difference to the world. You can avoid that, if you take this job. Nobody will know, but you will die with the sense of accomplishment only a few people in the world can achieve; the accomplishment of being a part of something bigger than yourself. Something… brilliant."

He had seen into her brain. His words were hypnotic, centered to make her sway to his way of thinking and she found herself thinking of every way in which he was right. He held out his wrinkled hand. She glanced between the glass coffin, and back at the man who had offered her an amazing job at a seemingly low price. She did want to be part of something brilliant. The decision had made itself really. She shook his hand and managed a grin.

"I can start Monday."

A/N: New chapter so soon! I should be asleep right now but I couldn't, not with this story floating in my head. Enjoy this longer chapter and enjoy getting to know Mallory!


	3. Soldiers First Words

"Dr. Mallory Smith."

"Voice recognized." A pause. "Retinal scan complete. Hello, Dr Smith."

Mallory smiled at the automated voice and watched as the small light above the door turned from red to green. With another small smile shot at the two guards, who this time actually smiled back after many blank stares, she entered the cold, tiled laboratory.

"Hey, you." She said, as the man held within the coffin came into view. She swiped her hand up the glass interface and read his vitals. "Let's see how you are, huh?"

It was strange getting used to her new job but more quickly than she anticipated, Mallory's life quickly fell back into a routine. She'd wake up at nine, get dressed and ready then call for the armored car from her phone. The car would squeal at her front door ten minutes after the call, complete with guards who escorted her to work. She'd enter the building at about half ten and run tests on the Soldier. Although she stayed there for four hours, it felt like longer. The tests took little more than an hour to run at most, and any minor issues could be solved within the second hour. However she couldn't leave the lab until two o'clock so she passed the time by running and rerunning tests on the Soldier for diseases and mishaps or reading a book she sometimes brought with her. Her mobile got zero signal in the underground base.  
At the end of her first week, Mallory began to think a human could go insane from boredom. Her training had began and ended on her first day by a bored looking technician named David. Younger than her, David talked fast and was a tech prodigy who'd attended MIT. He showed her how to work the machines – and Pierce was right about their simplicity – and ran through protocols of what to do in the event of a bug infecting her work files, or maybe the Soldier going crazy and trying to kill her. During this training through her own slight interrogation she learnt David did not know who the Soldier had been, where he had come from and where in fact they worked on a day to day basis. Department X, also referred to as the Bunker, was a secret underground base somewhere in America; nobody knew any more then that. Everybody had signed the injunction and David had whined to her about not being able to complain about his health insurance policy in case "HYDRA's goons come to my house and have me arrested."

David had also assured her of the four different fail safes built into the Bunker in case of infiltration from enemies and even interference from their own government; Level 1 was a minor bug that destroyed only the ultra-secret secrets which could be activated by anybody on site if they believed they were under threat. Level 2 was a major bug that crippled all of the files, even the ordinary day to day activities of the Bunker. Level 3 was a warhead aimed only at her laboratory to destroy all of the Winter Soldier's physical and digital evidence, alongside all of the files. Level 4 took it a step further; the entire base was rigged with explosives and Pierce had the key to set them off. If the Bunker was compromised, Pierce could push the button anywhere at anytime that connected to a wireless router that would automatically give any humans on site two minutes to get free of the blast area. Once the time was up, the bomb would go off and destroy the entire Bunker along with four miles of the American countryside.

"Wait." Mallory had said, unable to wrap her head around it. "You mean this entire place can be destroyed at the push of a button? With all of us inside?"

"Well I'm sure an alarm would go off so maybe some of us could make it out. But all of us, managing to get up top and free of the blast radius? Nah. There's always collateral."

"But that's completely unethical! And illegal-"

David had laughed for a while at that. "Mallory, this is a division of S.H.I.E.L.D even S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't know about. Trust me – if they can keep a secret from those guys, they can blow up this Bunker without even facing charges from a court. But it won't happen unless the fucking government try to shut us down."

Despite the rigged base and the weird technicians who thought these dangerous and illegal fail safes were hilarious, the job wasn't hard. Mallory was generally left alone with the Soldier over her hours; mainly because only herself, Pierce and three technicians had clearance to enter the Soldier's home and because they didn't need to be there when the Soldier was sleeping.

Humming a tune in the silent lab, Mallory swiped the interface so it's monitor was displayed on the big glass screen. Here, twelve boxes were monitoring twelve different vitals in the Soldier's body; breathing patterns, white cell count, brain activity, heartbeats, blood pressure... everything that could be irregular, imbalanced or just generally wrong with a person was displayed on that screen so Mallory could administered the right injections to make it. The Soldier was perfect health-wise. Just in cryo-sleep, far away from this world.

In her spare time, she had read everything her level four clearance would allow her to read on memory wipes and cryo-sleep to better understand it. She made a note in her books to approach Pierce about giving the Soldier more time out of the cryo-sleep; according to the research breaks every now and again were vital. She had seen Pierce only once since the interview, yelling at her father through his office a few days ago. She had decided to stay out of his way and not ask why her father was being scolded. She wasn't even sure why she'd been hired; maybe Pierce was just too lazy to interview someone and he'd asked her father to quickly get someone a job? The work had really nothing to do with medical concerns; she was, in reality, a glorified babysitter. But perhaps it was because he hadn't been woken up yet.

A lot of her time was also devoted to thinking about the Soldier; who was he? Where had he come from? Through the glass box, she could see him quite perfectly. His hair was brown and shoulder length, curling free not unlike her own. His jaw was covered in a rugged, homeless-type beard and his chest was dotted with dark hair, trailing off into the black sweatpants. His physique was perfection, a real _Men's Health_ cover type body, apart from the fact his stomach and chest were a tally pad of different scars. He was pale too; paler than her surprisingly. If his vitals weren't on screen, Mallory would most certainly believe he was ill. The most interesting thing was his left arm was entirely metal, complete red star on the shoulder like a symbolic tattoo; her best guess was it had been amputated due to some injury in the field. He never moved in cryo-sleep and he never stirred uncomfortably, as if his induced dreams were unpleasant. Although sometimes she had noticed his face would very slowly screw up as if he was experiencing pain, then relax again. Accompanied with this exercise was a raised heartbeat, and his breathing would increase.

She wondered if he did dream.

It was a Friday night and Mallory was just finishing up, tying her hair up and getting ready to leave work when suddenly the door clicked open and Pierce marched in. Behind him was a man in a suit, accompanied by an entire harem of twelve suited guards, brandishing rifles and pistols. _Jesus..._

"Mr Reznak, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Mallory Smith, the head doctor on the Winter Soldier programme."

"Yes, yes." The surly suited male glanced at her with disgust and spoke in a heavy Middle Eastern accent. She couldn't place it. His English was perfect, however. "I see her. Now wake him up and get on with it."

Pierce shot the man a look which could freeze steel but came over to Mallory and grasped her shoulders. She fought a gasp; his grip was tighter than she'd expected "Dr. Smith, you're going to have cancel any of your plans and stay behind. We need to wake him up."

Excitement swelled in her stomach, forgetting her fear of the man's guards or how tightly Pierce was gripping her. She had been dying for a week to see what the Soldier would be like when he was awake and how he would act. Trying not to grin, Mallory nodded at her boss who finally released her.

"I had no plans anyway." Pierce liked that and grinned at her, only his shark-like eyes were black and Mallory suddenly felt nerves course through her veins to be doing this in front of so many people for the first time. _Relax, Mal. Just run the protocol and do it quickly. _

"Computer!" She noted the slight tremble in her voice; one of the guards laughed and turned to another, speaking in a language she couldn't understand. Talking about her. Her cheeks flamed. Mr Reznak spat at them both back in the same tongue and they fell silent, holding back smiles of amusement.

The automated voice didn't answer but she heard its whirr of attention. Mallory's heart began to thump and she was glad it wasn't her who's heart-rate was being monitored as they'd most likely find that even funnier.

"Run protocol three-oh-four." She called, her voice clearer and more confident.

A series of clicks followed this statement, alongside the answer of the female voice. "Voice recognized. Protocol three-oh-four in effect."

The glass coffin suddenly began to glow green where his head was. David had talked her through this slowly. The green colour represented the percentage of how much he was waking up from cryo-sleep; when the entire coffin was green, the computer would alert that he was awake. The coffin would open and as David had put it "Dracula will arise and probably ask for something to eat."

"Ten percent complete."

Mr Reznak was impatient, tapping his expensive leather-clad toe on the tiled flooring of the lab. The noise was irritating. Mallory ignored him, her eyes peeled on the green glow enclosing the coffin.

"Twenty percent complete."

One of Reznak's guards sniffed loudly, and another was distracting her by playing with his gun. She shushed them, and both looked at her with surprise.

"Forty percent complete."

_That was quick. _Hiding a smile beneath her shaking hand, Mallory circled the coffin out of nervousness. Almost protective, she stole a glance at Pierce who nodded at encourgingly.

"Sixty percent complete."

_God! _Mallory felt like she'd been left with a cliffhanger on a TV show; that utter dread of waiting to be informed. Her stomach rolled with anxiety; how would he be? Hungry? Angry? Confused? She waited on literal tender-hooks.

"Eighty percent complete." The glow had almost reached the end of his body. Then the coffin sprang to life, glowing a harsh green and flashing once. Something clicked and the doors swung outwards, opening up, a hiss and a cloud of mist releasing the air that had been inside the capsule.

"Protocol complete." Mallory approached the open doors, her palms sweating horribly. She eyed the Soldier, who still seemed to be asleep and looked up towards Pierce.

His eyes were filled with a harsh encouragement. Fueled by this, she placed an experimental hand on the Soldier's shoulder; his eyes popped open. A scream never quite formed in her mouth, as he already had her pressed tightly against him, cool metal hand clamped around her mouth, his other arm holding her waist prisoner against him. Reznak's guards had every rifle aimed at them both, and Reznak was being protected behind them.

She had been frightened at the sudden capture but with the close proximity she felt his body shaking against her, his hot and confused breath making contact with her neck. Mallory became calmer than she had been, and decided she could do this herself.

She gently tugged his hands from her mouth. "I am Dr. Smith. I'm not going to hurt you. Please let me go."

He surrendered quickly. The guards put their rifles down, Reznak coming out from behind his guard and the Soldier slumped against the coffin, strength exiting his legs. When she turned, his eyes were bluer then she'd pictured and he seemed to have a face filled with an absolute blank look. _A byproduct of the memory wipes_, Mallory remembered from the articles she'd read about them. _They make you more suggestible to others orders._

"Soldier." Pierce stepped forwards and smiled in camaraderie at the Soldier. "You have a new mission."

"What?" The Soldier spoke slowly, gruffly and as if he was confused. He was talking to Pierce but staring at Mallory, his eyes crinkling in confusion at the new person in the room. If he knew Reznak and his guards were there, he did not acknowledge him.

"I'll brief you on the mission later. Mr Reznak merely wanted to see you up close to be sure you'd be up to it." Pierce turned to Mr Reznak. "Well?"

He spoke critically, sniffing with disgust. "He is skinnier than I pictured, but he will do."

Pierce found this amusing. "That he will. Come, we'll talk in my office about the fiances. Mallory?"

She'd been staring at the Soldier back, but looked up at the sound of her name. "Yes, sir?"

"Have him cleared for action and brought up to my office as soon as possible."

"Yes sir." The guards, Reznak and Pierce filed out together. When the door clicked, she and the Solider were alone in the lab, staring at each other. The Soldier was acting as if she was invading on his territory, a guard dog to this cold lab he called home.

He was still slumped onto the coffin and breathing heavily, his eyes darting around the room as if he was analyzing for threats. Mallory swallowed tightly and launched into the programme that David had told her to do.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Smith. I'll be looking after you from now on. The other woman you remember had to quit due to some stress with her personal life." She drew a breath to strengthen her, then said, "We'll start with the basics. Do you remember your name?"

Mallory waited with bated breath. He spoke quietly. "No."

_This was a good answer. _If he had, Mallory had been assured he would crack under the pressure and go insane. Any sign that he was remembering his former life, Mallory would have to put him in the jagged machine that resembled a tarantula and have his mind wiped again. She really hoped she didn't have to do that often; the machine looked uncomfortable, painful almost.

"Do you remember your duty?"

Again he spoke no higher then a whisper. "Yes. To serve."

Mallory nodded, throat tight and constricting around her. She turned to pull out the medical examination table and motioned for him to sit on it.

She ran through her examination slowly, to be thorough so Pierce would be impressed with her as she knew he'd probably have cameras in the lab. He responded to each of her commands with no complaint, merely looking at her with blank features and a cool stare. As she tested his reflexes, he responded above what was expected of normal, fit and healthy men. When she tested his speech patterns, his face screwed up horribly and he continued them in a low voice.

She checked his throat, eyes, nose, ears. Mallory got up close and tried not grimace when the Soldier recoiled from her touch. He reminded her of the small children when she worked the graveyard shift in the hospital. Some were frightened of the doctor, and cried when Mallory got up close to check them. Some were just frightened of the pain, and cried and cried and cried even when the pain stopped.

"It will be over quicker if you just let me do my job." Mallory sounded calmer then she was; the Soldier looked at her with his first real emotion which made her glad – even if it was disgust – to know that he was capable of producing emotion, allowed her to continue. Once she was done, she moved on.

"How do you feel?"

He swallowed. "Dizzy. Hungry."

_David was right. _She hid a smile. "The dizziness is a symptom of cryo-sleep; it'll wear off soon. How hungry?"

He seemed to be used to answering this question because he answered on a scale of numbers. "About a five, maybe a six."

"We'll get you something to eat." Mallory swallowed. "Any pain? Feeling of being sick or wanting to throw up? Fatigued? Or just tired?"

He shook his head to each question in turn. He was a man of few words, she had discovered. Nodding, Mallory recorded this by scribbling a few notes on one of the few clipboards she had found in the cupboards. Most things here were done electronically.

"Computer! Alert Pierce that Dr. Smith has passed the Soldier for clearance to perform in the field."

The Soldier stared at her as she went about her business. Then he spoke so quietly she didn't hear the words, just a low murmur.

"Pardon me?"

The Soldier looked at her almost nervously and looked down at himself. "Usually... I remember the other doctor used to set my clothes out..." His glance flicked towards the cupboards in the corner.

His clothes, she discovered when she went to the cupboard, was in fact his uniform. Thick black leather combat boots were to cover his feet, black combat pants and a black t-shirt. Over the t-shirt would go a black jacket, something that couldn't be worn for anything other then combat as it had a built in bulletproof vest. One side of the jacket was torn off to make room for the Soldier's metal arm. Gun holsters and belts sat alongside it. She guessed he'd make a trip to armory before he left to stock up on his untensils.

Her mind was abuzz with questions none of which she knew would be answered right now. Passing him the gear, she was pleased to learn he had manners as he thanked her quietly. Then he stripped off with no regard for his own privacy in front of her, standing naked as he sorted out his uniform. For a man who spoke so little, he seemed to have no problem making her feel uncomfortable. Mallory turned to give him and herself room, breathing deeply as if she was about to go full-panic mode.

The Soldier dressed himself and coughed as a signal for Mallory to turn back around. The effect was immediate; in cryo-sleep he looked helpless, but suited and booted, he was terrifying. The Winter Soldier. She'd never heard the name before, but she assumed he lived up to his title, cold and efficient like the name suggested. Mallory found her speech caught in her throat and she had to count to three before calming her hysteria down.

"Pierce wants you in his office."

The Soldier merely nodded. Mallory found her mother's teachings of _be polite _striking her to practically yell after him. "And Soldier?"

He stopped, turned and fixed his cold gaze on her, confusion obvious in his eyes. Mallory found herself struck for a beat, staring into those cool blue eyes. The slight pause was awkward, but she quickly recovered with a softly spoken statement.

"Good luck."

Mallory had been home from work for hours, finishing her Game of Thrones marathon. She hadn't been watching it really; just absorbing the colours and the sights on screen. If anyone was there to quiz her, she'd probably just shrug. Her thoughts lingered back to the Bunker, to Mr Reznak's involvement with the Soldier programme, to the Soldier himself and his whereabouts. Even David and his explanations of the protocols to blow up the Bunker had trashed her normally calm and spotless mind. The week was catching up with her, exhaustion sinking deep in her bones. Her phone buzzed and showed her that her mother was calling her.

Mallory answered glad of the normality in such a strange situation."Hey mom."

"Hi sweetie. I'm just calling to see how you are."

Since Mallory's mother had learnt of her unemployment she had embarrassingly asked every single person in the neighborhood if they had any spare jobs for Mallory. When she learnt that Mallory had been employed a day after being made redundant, her mother was delighted. However when she'd learnt that she couldn't say anything, she'd almost busted a gut.

"_What do you mean, you can't say anything about your work? I'm your mother!" _

"_It's kinda like Dad's job." Mallory had hoped that would suffice but her mother seemed to be content with grilling her for details. _

"_So you're working for S.H.I.E.L.D? Or are you pretending to work for S.H.I.E.L.D so I won't sign you up for that diner job-"_

_Oh god. "Mom-"_

"_\- off the highway with Bob and his wife? I mean sweetie, I know you're a doctor and all but taking a waitress job is no slant on your dignity at all-"_

"_Mom!"_

"_-and it doesn't really matter as long as you're getting income. I mean when I was your age, granted I wasn't a doctor, but I was working night and day. That's before I met your father of course."_

_Her mom did this all the time. Mallory loved the woman to her bones, but Christ she got on her nerves sometimes. _

"_MOM!"_

_Her mom paused. "What sweetheart?"_

_Mallory hesitated then just sighed. "I said yeah. Yes I'm working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Tell Bob thanks for the offer, but I'd rather not spend my life on a minimum wage." _

Mallory shook her head of the past, and returned to the present to answer her mom's question.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"How's your very mysterious work?" Mallory's mother herself was employed as a full time housewife, dog-sitter, member of the neighborhood watch, patron of the church and generally a full time busybody. If somebody had done something vaguely scandalous like cutting off a neighbours hedges to improve their view, Mallory imagined her mother first on the scene, with a notebook and pen to detail what happened and who said what. Suburban life was dull for Mallory, but Julie had managed to make it exciting for herself.

"It's going great. Very... exciting." She remembered the Soldier's cold glare and his surprise at her wish of luck for him.

"Well that's great, sweetheart. I'm so pleased." She coughed down the phone; Mallory rolled her eyes. "Anyway I also wanted to ask if you were free on Sunday for dinner? We can celebrate your new job."

"Depends what you're making?"

"Mallory Smith, you will attend Sunday dinner with your mother whether I'm making pot roast or roasted ants served with a side of vomit. I barely see you anymore."

Mallory sighed, and found herself saying, "So we're having the roasted ants?"

"Of course we are. It's a delicacy in Washington, didn't you know?" Laughing, her mother moved on to say, "In all seriousness, we're having pot roast. Your father hates ants. Speaking of, I can hear him yelling for me right now."

_Domestic bliss. _Mallory's mom yelled back at her father over the phone, and Mallory winced to hold it away from her ear.

"Love you honey. See you Sunday."

"Love you Mom."

The phone beeped, and her mother's comforting voice disappeared, leaving her with the thoughts of the Soldier swirling in her head.

A/N: Chapters everywhere! I know it seems a little dull at the moment, but I swear it's gonna pick up soon. Enjoy and let me know what you think!


	4. Protocol 270

_Mallory was riding a dragon, with Jon Snow clutching her waist. As the dragon swooped to the ground and landed with a thump, the Soldier dived in front of her and sucked the air in deeply, before blowing fire over the dragon and Jon. He dived off the dragon in time but Mallory didn't; the red hot burn passed over her body in a flash of white light and she opened her mouth to scream but the only sound that came out was the song 'Stupid Hoe' by Nicki Minaj. _

She woke in the pitch blackness of apartment, slightly confused and convinced she was on fire, with the song playing in the background. It had been Sunday when she'd gone to bed, after sharing a bottle of wine with her giddy mother and her distant father over their Sunday pot roast. When she came home, she'd tried to relax with a nice hot shower and another glass of wine but she'd gone to bed drunk, dizzy and nauseous. She'd also been extremely hot so currently she was naked apart from a pair of cute pink underwear with cupcakes decorating her crotch and ass.

Groaning, Mallory sat up in her bed and rubbed at her eyes, It clicked that the song was her ring tone and she pulled the phone to her ear, pressing the green button on the screen.

She didn't get time to ask who the _hell _this person thought they were to wake her up at this delicate hour.

"Dr. Smith we need you to come in right away." It was Pierce, sounding snappy and awake and scary like he always did. Mallory flinched and pulled the phone from her ear and checked the clock in the upper left hand corner – three thirty six am. _You're kidding me._

"What for?" Her voice was thick with sleep, her brain sluggish.

He ignored that, in that way of his that suggested he hadn't even heard her speak. "The car is outside right now. Just put some clothes on and be in it right away."

Her mouth tasted filmy from the wine and Pierce wanted her to jump into the car right away and do technological things that required logistical thought? Mallory's eyes were crusted with sleep but were gradually adjusting to the artificial light of her phone screen.

"Dr. Smith my men say you haven't left your apartment yet. What is the delay?"

Even over the phone, Pierce could inspire sudden soberness in sleepy and still half-drunk people. Mallory jumped out of the bed and tried to control her yelp when she stumbled over the sheets that had tangled themselves around her ankles and landed in a heap on the floor.

"No delay sir. I'm coming right now." She threw the phone on the bed.

Frowning, Mallory stumbled towards her bathroom and switched the light on. A wild eyed, mad-haired and frowning naked woman stared back at her. Mallory blinked twice and tried to focus, working extra hard to make herself look semi-presentable and to be out the door before she was sure the HYDRA agents were going to kick down the door. How embarrassing it would be if they crashed open her bathroom door whilst she was in this state, a literal tits-out look that was not going to be on any catwalk. She swished her mouth with Listerine, and restrained her hair with a ponytail. Next she raced back into the darkness of her bedroom and found the nearest things to wear; a pair of boyfriend jeans, ballet flats and a stripy jumper. Mismatched and uncoordinated, she was busy slicking on some moisturizer to soothe her savaged skin when Pierce called again.

She couldn't ignore him. "Hello, sir?"

He sounded pissed. "Get in the damn car, Mallory otherwise I'll have the HYDRA agents carry you out of there no matter what you're wearing."

"Yes sir." She was a mouse, squeaking with mercy at a large and angry predator. Gulping, Mallory grabbed her keys and phone and ran out of the apartment, pausing only to lock the door. She was glad she only lived on the fourth floor, as if she'd been near the top she was sure by the time she had ran down the stairs, Pierce would've fired her. It was like something he would do.

Mallory raced out of the warmth into the cold Monday early morning. A group of HYDRA agents stood near the car. She recognized the man standing in front of them all as the de facto leader; an arrogant but most certainly attractive brown haired gentlemen who introduced himself as such as Brock Rumlow. He had escorted her to work and from work since last week, and was a lot chattier then the rest of them. Immediate schoolgirl crush when she'd met him. He had nice eyes, a sweet hazel colour that were sweeter still when he smiled, which was often and usually at her.

"Pierce is gonna kick your ass." He said, smirking at her as she panted and scrambled into the car. The other men loaded up quickly and the car began to roll through the streets at a speed that was both frightening and totally illegal.

"I know, I know." Out of breath, Mallory hunched in the seat and prayed she had been quick enough for Pierce. Rumlow grinned, and smiled at her reassuringly.

"You made it in time, don't worry. He isn't gonna fire you."

Relieved, Mallory sat back on the seat and bounced with nervousness. "Thanks. You're looking remarkably awake at this time."

Rumlow smiled, sending her cheeks colouring stupidly. "I can't help it; I'm jacked up so much coffee I'm pretty sure my heart has stopped beating."

"I could check you over, if you want. I am a doctor."

"I may have to take you up on the offer."

The flirting was a nice antidote to the strange situation. She wondered why they had called her at this time but really it was obvious; the Soldier was back and he needed some sort of life threatening diagnosis to go into surgery or something. Either way, the Soldier was back from his mission. She'd heard he'd left with a bunch of HYDRA agents to go to Kuwait. Whoever had been the victim of the Soldier's infamous ruthless aggression and secretive work was a poor man indeed. Mallory felt itchy, sweating with nerves and feeling stupid in front of Rumlow.

As they pulled up outside the Bunker, Mallory was out the car first and sprinting across the desert that was bathed in darkness. The agents followed her and watched as she pulled up the access panel and opened the lift with her voice.

"Well?" She asked impatiently as they stared. "Are you coming?"

Rumlow laughed and stepped into the lift with her. Usually it went at breakneck speed but somehow it seemed slower than a snail. Mallory bounced on the soft underfoot of her ballet flats, trying to act as if the sheen of sweat that covered her makeup free face was intentional. As the doors slid open, Mallory raced past all of the night techs and went straight to the corridor where she completed her voice recognition and retina scan with a record time.

"Retina scan complete. Hello, Dr. Smith."

Mallory ran in. The scene she was greeted with was one of chaos. Various doctors she had never seen before were swarming over the examination table where she'd performed the Soldier's first examination before the mission; on it lay the Soldier himself, screaming with pain as the bed turned red with blood. His howls echoed horribly around the lab. Pierce was at the head of the table, yelling at Mr Reznak who was yelling back, his English being aggressively punctuated by words she assumed were harsh in his tongue. And in the midst of this, Mallory was thrown into the deep end when a young, bright eyed nurse ran up to her and said, "What do we do, Dr. Smith?"

Mallory was working on autopilot; no longer Mallory Smith, daughter of Sampson and Julie, the sweet young girl who happened to be single and obsessed with Game of Thrones. Now she was Dr. Smith, the steadfast doctor who had served so many late night shifts in A&amp;E that even the most horrific of injuries could not stir bile in her stomach. An empowering shift into her doctor persona, who she had so missed in her time away from the hospital.

She darted forwards. "Clear the table!" The command was sharp and abrupt and Mallory began tuning whoever wasn't important out of her vision and hearing.

"What happened?" She asked the nurse, as the girl handed her some vinyl gloves so she could begin.

One of Mr Reznak's men answered. "One of the guys fucking goons got the drop on your precious soldier; stabbed him clean through."

Mallory pushed past the nurses and assessed the wound; it was small but deep. Fatal if left unchecked. They'd just been in the process of cutting his clothes off when she'd entered and now he was facing her, naked, face drained and screwed up with pain.

"Any poison?"

"What?"

Her voice raised to a shout. "Was there any poison on the blade?"

"No." He spat something at her in that language of his. Mallory glared at the soldier.

Pierce began to move behind her, clearing the room of all doctors and nurses. She didn't notice until she called out for an IV drip and nobody was there to answer. Pierce stood grinning at her. Mallory could've hit him.

"What are you doing? He could die-"

"Dress his wounds and put him into cryo-sleep, he'll eventually stabilize."

Mallory felt uneasy following Pierce's orders but she did, dressing the groaning Soldier's wounds and coaxing him with kind words to walk from the bed to the glass coffin; he collapsed onto the bed and groaned.

"Doctor... Mallory..." He sounded so young when he spoke that it tugged on her heartstrings. Then the Soldier blacked out, his body weight becoming unbearable against her that she staggered. Pierce helped her get him into the bed.

"Shit. Computer!" The whirr sprang to life. "Run protocol 270."

The glass doors of the coffin swung shut and clicked. The protocol would reactivate the cryo-sleep and send a gas that would sedate the Soldier. The mist sprayed him and Mallory swiped his vitals on the big screen; his heart was racing but as the sedation worked and the cryo-sleep did its magic, the number dropped to a reasonable rate. Mallory breathed steady.

"Good work, Dr. Smith." He clapped Mallory on the back; she flinched and tried to smile.

"Thank you, sir." Her heartbeat was deafening over the dim whirring of machinery. Pierce nodded at her and left to go and tend to Mr Reznak, whom she heard yelling in his language all the way down the hall. Mallory rubbed her forehead and turned back to the table where the Soldier had been bleeding on and began to clean it up to give her something to do. All the while, her eyes were peeled on the vital screen to see if the Soldier had any change.

When she was certain he'd be fine and she'd dumped all of the unsanitary blood-stained bandages, Mallory found herself walking over to the computer and accessing the S.H.I.E.L.D database from the generic public website; she frowned at the monitor. Surely the information she was after wasn't available to the public? _Aha!, _she thought as she spotted the login box available only to the employees. After typing in her password and pressing enter, the screen loaded a new, more personalized screen complete with Mallory's name stamped above a search box complete with Mallory's I.D picture, where she was staring into the camera with a glazed over expression.

_Type your search phrase here _the box encouraged. Who would she search first? Her fingers typed before she had a chance to think. _Mr Reznak_...

The clearance brought up a thousand and one possible articles related to Mr Reznak, but the second most option seemed the most likely as it had I.D picture of the man who had entered the Bunker, alongside other aliases. She clicked it.

It was created like a Wikipedia page, only black background with white text and the S.H.I.E.L.D logo stamped everywhere.

_Mikhal Rashad Reznak, also known as Mr Reznak is the face of American-based oil manufacturers Reznak &amp; Co. Reznak is known internationally for his ruthless aggression towards his competitors, and is even accused of having a personal involvement in the death of James Klattenhof, owner of the German-based oil company W__ir lieben Öl. _

This only led her to be more confused; what was the owner of an oil company doing in a sub-department of S.H.I.E.L.D? It made no sense. What would Mr Reznak want with the Winter Soldier?

Then it hit her. Reznak was said to have ruthless aggression. Was it possible that Reznak had heard of the Winter Soldier's former exploits and asked to hire him to kill another competitor in the oil business? Surely Pierce wouldn't sell government owned expenditure like that? The Winter Soldier programme was supposed to be used as a last resort to assassinate government leaders not eliminate an angry oil baron's competition.

She was going to go to Pierce. Surely he'd understand her confusion? Spurred on by this sudden feeling of invincibility, Mallory stormed through the darkness of the corridor and into the main building area and ran up the steps towards Pierce's office. It was empty save for the man himself, drinking coffee and looking smug as usual. She knocked twice on the door.

"Come in."

Mallory entered, her invincibility falling short when she met the gaze of her shark-like boss. She sat down out of respect in the chair and found her throat suddenly dry.

"I wanted to ask a question... about Reznak."

Pierce seemed to freeze in the chair but Mallory continued as if she hadn't heard him much like Pierce did all the time to her. "I looked him up on the S.H.I.E.L.D database and it turns out he's an oil baron. Did he hire the Winter Soldier to take out his competition? And did you let him-"

Pierce raised his hand and Mallory silenced automatically, feeling suddenly as if she had stepped onto a minefield in broaching this subject with the boss.

"Dr. Smith... may I remind you that you signed an injunction-"

Her words came surprisingly confident."That injunction prevents me from speaking to my work to the public. This-" She gestured around the office. "-isn't the public."

Pierce's shark-like look turned into a full scathing, molten hot disaster-at-Pompeii type glare and Mallory's throat went dryer than a desert. Where had that sudden spark come from? Usually she was so meek, so silent.

"What I do with my Winter Soldier is absolutely no concern of yours, Miss Smith." _Why had so suddenly reverted to calling her Miss? And since when was the Winter Soldier 'his'?_ Pierce then smiled but it was a tight smile, as if he trying not to lift the table and throw it off her head. "No need to worry your pretty little head about it."

This admission left her feeling violated and awkward. Mallory rose from the chair, a blush rising over her cheeks from shame and embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry sir. Please forgive me." Nervousness caused her to stutter pathetically and she practically stumbled out of the office. She passed Rumlow walking up the stairs, and he placed his hand on her shoulder as she passed.

The touch would've normally set every sense on fire but here, it just sent a mild buzz through her system. "Hey, you okay?"

Mallory managed a weak smile. "Yeah Rumlow. I'm fine."

Fatigued, from lack of sleep and sweating from embarrassment and shame, Mallory walked back to the Soldier's lab with her head metaphorically in her hands. The subtext messages from Pierce had been received loud and clear; don't ask awkward questions and don't ask Pierce. Hopefully the mistakes she had made today would be ignored in future. She walked over to the Soldier's glass coffin and laid her head and hands across the top where the Soldier's chest lay.

"Maybe I can forget like you did." She murmured quietly, unable to break the habit of talking to him as if he could hear her.

Mallory must've fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, Rumlow was carrying her to the backseat of an SUV. She woke being transported from his strong arms to the leather clad seat and he climbed in next to her.

"How's..." A little disorientated, Mallory sat up in the car with her back to the window wiping her mouth with her sleeve and praying she looked decent. "How is... our soldier?"

"He's doing fine, Mal." Rumlow smiled patiently and Mallory flushed slightly, hoping it was too dark in the back seat of the SUV for him to see.

Without his normal S.H.I.E.L.D fatigues, Rumlow seemed naked. Of course this thought conjured up an image of Rumlow naked in her mind and Mallory went even redder. He caught her staring and shot her a little side grin as if he knew what she was thinking and Mallory averted her eyes, fixating her gaze on her fingernails and wondering whether or not she should bother with nail varnish in the future.

As they sat in a comfortable silence as the car rolled from the top secret location back to her home, Mallory found her thoughts on the Soldier, Reznak and his problem and Pierce's strangeness in their meeting. The "pretty little head" statement rattled around her skull horribly and she shook it firmly, attempting to get rid of it before it became a dance remix in her mind. Although she knew that HYDRA was the sub-division of S.H.I.E.L.D then even they weren't aware of, did that mean that they were keeping secrets from the employees? All of them didn't even know where they worked. Why had the Soldier been hired to execute a man who had connections with an oil baron? It just didn't make sense. She opened her mouth to ask Rumlow but she found herself hesitating; why? It was obvious. Rumlow was one of Pierce's top lieutenants. If she was questioning Rumlow about Pierce, he'd tell Pierce then she'd get fired. And this job was too good to lose.

_Just keep your mouth shut, Mal. _She advised herself, folding her arms and settling into her seat as the streaks of a grey dawn settled over the world. _Forget about it._

An hour later, they pulled up outside of her apartment. The sky was brighter and Mallory was resigning herself to flop on her bed fully clothed when Rumlow escorted her up the front steps.

"Hey I was wondering... after work do you wanna get a drink or something?"

All of her previous sleights were lifted and she grinned happily at Rumlow, suddenly feeling awake and energetic.

"Yeah. Course. I'd loved too."

Rumlow smiled at her; it was getting embarrassing what that smile did to her "Great. So tomorrow straight after work? I'll get off early and we can go somewhere nice?"

Mallory was nodding. "Yep. Sounds great."

Rumlow gave her a thumbs up before jumping back into the car. As she entered her apartment building, draining the last of this new found energy by smiling and walking up four flights of stairs, Mallory unlocked her front door and relocked it once she had entered. _I'm actually going on a date with Rumlow_, she thought, as she forced herself to undress and get back into bed.

The thought kept her warm and were in the process of sending her to sleep until her half awake-dreams were disturbed by images of the man with the metal arm, the cool stare and the way he had said her name.

"_Doctor... Mallory..." He sounded so young when he spoke that it tugged on her heartstrings. Then the Soldier blacked out. _

She was sure she'd never said her name was Mallory.


	5. That Pink Perfect Lily

It was four fifty five and Mallory's stomach was sick with excitement. Her date with the Rumlow was tonight and she had been looking forward to it all day. As she was retouching her eyebrows to sharpen the lines, her mother called. Mallory put down her eyebrow pencil and picked up the phone.

Her mother answered without greeting. "Mal, honey have you eaten yet?"

Mallory had been too nervous to have a snack. "No not yet."

"Oh that's good. I have a chicken and the Johnston's are coming for dinner. You know their son George – you remember George don't you? - is getting a divorce? There'll be food, cake, tea..."

Mallory was grinning from ear to ear and she crossed her legs, feeling how smooth they were from the amount of shaving she'd done. She'd nicked her legs as always, on the back crease where her knee was.

"I can't." Mallory was beginning to sound smug. "I have a date."

There was a pause. Then with all of Mallory's sexual and romantic encounters, an explosion uttered out of her mother's mouth that would eventually rival the one that Yellowstone was hiding beneath the layers of rock.

"A date?! Who with?! What's his or hers name? Honestly sweetie I didn't think you'd be able to nab anybody but look at you!"

"Well..." Mallory ignored the final barb from her mother and walked barefoot from the bathroom to her bedroom, peeking out of the window to check if the car had arrived yet. "His name is Brock, he's an agent at my workplace and yeah he's really cute."

Her mother was laughing delightedly. "Oh honey that's great. What does he look like?"

Mallory squinted at the window, seeing her dressed and made up reflection in the glass, attempting to remember.

"He's got dark hair, quite dark hazel eyes, and he's... oh he's just gorgeous Mom."

"Oh well. I'll tell the Johnston's you'll be here next time." Her mother giggled. "Maybe with this Brock guy!"

Mallory talked as she walked back into the kitchen, picking up the eyebrow pencil and leaning close into the mounted mirror on her bathroom wall to squint properly at her reflection. She'd framed her light brown eyes with lashing of black mascara and eyeliner, perfecting the cat like flick at the end (of course, the first attempt on the left eye had ended in disaster and she'd covered the slight smudge with her foundation). Grey sparkly eyeshadow smoked her eye lids and blended into a lighter silver in the corner and the crease. Her hair was still warm from the curling iron, flowing naturally down her back but of course styled hard. She wore a blue dress and matching strappy shoes which she'd recently purchased lay on the bed to be worn; she had prayed to every God she could remember that they wouldn't pinch her feet.

"It's just a date, Mom." A car horn beeped outside. Mallory's heart lurched. "Oh God he's here! I have to go."

"Okay. Love you sweetheart and good luck!"

"Thanks! Love you too!" Mallory hung up quickly and finished with her eyebrow pencil. She dashed round the apartment, collecting keys, phones, emergency paracetamol, makeup for any retouches, a hair tie in case her hair went wrong, some blister packs and a pepper spray which had been abandoned at the bottom of her bag. The car horn beeped again out of impatience and she heard Rumlow's voice yell towards the general direction of her building.

"HURRY UP, MAL!"

Laughing, Mallory strapped her shoes over her feet. Taking a last look in the mirror for luck, she deemed herself acceptable and clacked down the stairs, through the main lobby to the sight of Rumlow in a suit holding a lily by the pavement.

"Looking good, Dr. Smith." He said, as she took his outstretched arm and they walked to the car together. "Hey. This is for you."

She took the pink lily – her favourite flower – with the white bordered edges and twirled the stem in her hand. "My favourite. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. C'mon. I think this taxi driver is going to murder us for waiting." The driver tutted when they entered the car together, and the pair shared a laugh at his disbelief.

Rumlow had chosen the restaurant, an Asian place with paper lamps and a friendly hostess who had greeted them and guided them a table tucked near the back. Mallory ordered a light dinner, sushi with that seaweed which wasn't really seaweed, and a large glass of the white house wine.

As dinner arrived and was cleared, Mallory had learnt a lot about the once mysterious agent Rumlow. When he worked with S.H.I.E.L.D on a weekly basis he was a member of their STRIKE force and had met infamous Agent Romanoff numerous amounts of times. After she'd questioned him extensively, he'd revealed that she was a high-ranking, mysterious woman but Rumlow found her a "bit of a bitch". The bitch comment had thrown her off course but as she liked him so much she was prepared to forgive that slight mishap and ignore it. He was a half Italian, half American boy who had been raised in America ever since he was young, although he spoke of his Italian childhood rather fondly. His birthday was in June. His favourite colour was blue. He used to have a yellow Labrador but he had to get rid of it as his landlord didn't like pets on the premises. And she noticed he joked a lot, and had a tendency of rubbing his neck almost nervously whenever he mentioned work. Mallory had smiled at him and made him laugh with details of her boring childhood, explaining the story of how she had broken her wrist after falling off a swing set when she was a child. As he reached over the table to take her wrist to have a look at her scar, he held it for a moment longer and smiled at her deeply. Mallory had felt the jolt of electricity and couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"This was nice." He said, and Mallory had to agree. It had been a nice dinner. And now they were leaving.

As the cab pulled up outside the restaurant, Rumlow guided her in and placed his arm on the backrest of Mallory's seat; Mallory found her head rested against his shoulder as if they were already dating. Excitement swirled with alcohol in her stomach and she could tell that she really _really _liked Agent Rumlow. She considered asking him upstairs so they could have sex, weighing up the pros and cons in her drunken mind. Pro; it would end her practically six month dry spell after ending it with her last boyfriend Todd. Con; it might ruin the possibility of a future relationship with Rumlow. Pro; he looked like he knew how to pleasure a woman. Con; she was afraid she'd be too drunk to remember.

Eventually, logic won and the cons won out and Mallory resigned herself to a night of sex-free activities. As the car stopped outside her front door, Rumlow stepped out with her.

"So..." It had gotten colder and Mallory hadn't brought a coat. She held her hands to her opposite forearms and smiled at Rumlow warmly. "This was fun."

"Yeah it was." A high blush had crept over Rumlow's cheeks and Mallory reckoned he was drunker then he was letting on; he'd been chugging Jack Daniels as if it was water all throughout their dinner almost nervously. "I really like you Mallory."

A glow set in Mallory's stomach, and a smile so wide crept on her face it hurt. "Well I really like you as well, Rumlow."

He laughed. "I told you, call me Brock."

"I like Rumlow better."

The pair shared a laugh and Rumlow took her hand; Mallory felt the glow spreading across her entire body and she nervously chuckled as he pressed his mouth to the flat upper side of her hand.

"Can we do it again some time?" His thumb brushed over her knuckles and as her hand dropped he tightened his grip to give her a squeeze of reassurance. Mallory nodded, giggling girlishly.

"Of course." He then lent forwards and kissed her once, very softly on the mouth. Mallory stopped breathing and tried to desperately snapshot that moment forever. When they pulled apart, she smiled at him. "Goodnight... Brock."

"Goodnight Mallory."

The fairytale hysteria lasted with her as she went up the four flights of stairs - abandoning her heels on the second set – and into her apartment. With her back to the door, Mallory slumped to knees and let out another laugh which echoed throughout the silent and dark apartment. The date had gone well, and the glow of new found... romance was with her all throughout the evening.

At night, she experienced the same dream as the night before, of the metal-armed man with the cold eyes who whispered her name in a fever.

"Vitals?" Mallory asked to the empty, cool air of the lab.

The automated computer answered with assurance. "80bpm."

She stared down at the glass coffin of her Soldier and felt a warmth towards him, even though they had barely spoke. The warmth was of friendship, as one feels to a platonic friend they feel they have known their entire lives. She'd been working in this compound for two weeks now but it felt like even longer; the secrecy of the ride to work no longer thrilled her, the ultimate-security vibe of the Bunker no longer intrigued her thirst of curiousity. Even the technology didn't shock her anymore. Mallory Smith had officially, as of two weeks from her start date at the HYDRA base, became an integrated HYDRA medical officer. It felt good to no longer feel like the new kid stumbling blindly from task to task. Frowning at the glass, she rubbed her sleeve on the fingerprint marks she had smudged all across the top of the cool circular glass lid of her Soldier's prison and wondered how often the cleaners got in to wash it. She mused on Pierce and how she hadn't seen him since they'd had that awkward conversation in his office. The man was at S.H.I.E.L.D's headquarters, the big shiny building in D.C named the Triskelion. He was to be there for the rest of this month, and the team was instructed to carry on their normal business as if he was still presiding over them like a big metaphorical shark.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in."

A young HYDRA agent entered, his head thrown back as if he was mid-laugh. His standard-issued boots clacked horribly against the tiled floor, but when Mallory spotted the blood that was poured in a direct stream from his nose to the floor, Mallory leapt up.

"What happened?" She was caught between a motherly amusement at someone's injuries and the doctoral criticism that welled in her throat.

"Someone caught me on a mission. Lucky shot." The young man laughed. "You should see the other guy."

Mallory laughed and told the soldier to hop up on the examination table.

She'd found a pastime when she wasn't looking after her Soldier. HYDRA, STRIKE and S.H.I.E.L.D agents found themselves slowly drawn to her door as if she was a regular medical practitioner and this was her clinic, asking about dormant rashes, STD's, curious looking moles and general worrisome items upon their body. So far she had discovered a numerous amount of STD's and found herself laughing about them to Brock the day after.

"Just tell me who it is!" He had teased lightly, as the armoured vehicle drove her home from work. Mallory had slumped in her seat and mock-glared at him.

"No! Patient doctor confidentiality." She shoved him hard. "Anyway you'd tease them so much until they _quit_ due to harassment. You can be a real asshole, Rumlow."

"You love it."

"Fuck off."

"You love it!" Rumlow had insisted, with that jerk type smirk that Mallory had come to have a love hate relationship with. He'd then proceeded to press his body against her and kiss her lightly on the mouth. Mallory drank each kiss even deeper, feeling drunk and lusty on the taste of his lips and the feel of his two day old stubble giving her burn on her cheeks. Not realizing she was grinning, the agent with the broken nose frowned at her.

"What?"

Mallory composed herself. "Nothing. Looks like a simple fracture; broken clean in two." She got to work silently, trying not to think about Rumlow or how she had felt that familiar warming sensation in her underwear. She cleaned the agent up and was in the process of explaining what she was going to do when the coffin beeped.

The computer commanded her attention. "Recovery complete." The coffin clicked open.

Although nobody had specifically told anybody that her main priority was the Soldier and not a random HYDRA agent, the HYDRA agent knew this instinctively. He jumped down from the examination table immediately and smiled nervously.

"I'm gonna go... do stuff." The agent assured her, glancing nervously at the coffin.

His race from the room was almost fast enough to beat the world record. Mallory found her gaze drawn towards the blood he had dripped on her floor when he'd entered, before she ran back to the coffin as the Soldier woke up.

"Hey."

The Soldier blinked as light shrank his pupils. "What... what happened?" His voice seemed lower than normal.

Mallory kept it short and sweet. "You were out on a contract. You'd been stabbed... we put you in the machine and ran the protocols. You're fine now."

The Soldier nodded and Mallory moved so he could get up. Shirtless and hungry looking, his sweatpants hung from his skinny hips. He managed to haul himself out of the coffin with ease but when it came to walking, he staggered like a drunk and held his hands out for balance. Mallory was next to him in an instance, her arm around his waist.

"Easy... just take it slow... don't strain yourself." She coaxed. The Soldier seemed reluctant to be so near her, but he resigned himself to having close contact with her and allowed her to practically carry him towards the examination table. As he eased himself up, Mallory called for the computer.

"Run cleaning programme on the coffin."

"Cleaning programme commencing."

Mallory then started her usual examination on the Soldier. Reflexes, speech patterns, questions of pain, sickness or dizziness. He responded well, his hand lightly prodding his side where a shiny new scar displayed on his chest.

"Is that the..."

She finished for him. "Stab wound? Yeah." Treading lightly, Mallory attempted to make her tone casual. "So do you remember who stabbed you?"

The Soldier nodded. Mallory raised her eyebrow.

"Not going to tell me?" He shook his head. Mallory gave up and moved onto the mental exercises.

"How do you feel?"

He was used to this and he tilted his head back, his long unkempt hair falling backwards in almost gently curled waves. "Hungry." He answered with the number scale through familiarity. "About a nine."

"Any pain? Discomfort?"

"A little pain. A five or a six."

Mallory searched the cupboards and found some aspirin and some bottled water; they kept water in the cupboards, but no food.

"Here. Take this." The Soldier obeyed without question. Mallory smiled. "We'll get you some food later."

"That's what you said last time." The Soldier narrowed his eyes critically. Shocked, Mallory reeled slightly.

"They didn't feed you?"

The Soldier shook his head. Mallory's jaw dropped open; how long hadn't he eaten? The question ran forward without being prompted.

"When was the last time you ate?" He seemed to frown at her slightly but she watched as his seemingly large frame suddenly relaxed as if he had been tense this entire time.

The Soldier shrugged, choosing to use actions instead of words. Mallory's eyes widened. The decision clicked within her mind and her stomach growled at the outcome of her decision, her mouth flooding with saliva. She rummaged round the lab until she found her coat and located a twenty dollar bill crumpled in her jacket pocket.

"Wait here." Mallory went outside, clutching the bill intently and tracked down an agent; once assuring them of her identify and knowledge, she requested what she needed.

"Dr. Smith I haven't done that type of mission before." The agent was a hard faced female who's mask of steely eyed determination was cracked due to her request.

"I'm begging you." Mallory smiled kindly. "Just stay with it until it's done and bring it straight back. Okay?" She pressed the bill in the agent's hand.

The agent glanced at the office as if Pierce was still inside, and glaring at her. Then she nodded.

"Okay."

An hour and a half later, the agent returned carrying a pizza box and Mallory's change. In return for her kindness, Mallory allowed the agent to take slice of the the 14" margarita and she had, walking from the lab with a huge grin plastered across her face.

When she returned with the still-warm pizza box in her hands, her Soldier was sitting on his glass coffin with his elbows resting on his knees, staring into the distance blankly. At her noise, he'd swung his legs down and glared at the box as if it was an enemy.

_An enemy against a diet, perhaps. _Mallory grinned at him and set the box down on the examination table.

"What is that?"

She opened the lid and briefly ignored him, leaning forwards to smell the freshly cooked dough and the bubbling cheese. "Pizza. Have you ever had it before?" The Soldier eyed her with that blank look only this time, there seemed to be something whirring in his brain as if he was thinking about it.

"I'm not sure."

"Well it's food. You said you were hungry." She lent in to take a slice.

Mallory got lost in her own world of taste sensations, chewing on the now mashed up mixture of dough and cheese and tomato sauce in her mouth. The taste caressed her taste buds in a way a man never could, and Mallory stifled a groan. It had been too long since she'd eaten pizza. Too long.

The Soldier walked over curiosity and sniffed at it. "Nobody's ever bought me pizza before."

Mallory stopped mid chew, eyeing him as he hesitated to pick up a slice. His statement welled up sympathy within her, even more to add to the already growing pile of sympathy for this poor Winter Soldier. After watching her intently as Mallory took another big bite and swallowed it – probably assuring himself that it wasn't poisoned – the Soldier took a slice gingerly and began eating with small bites. As he ate, he walked over to the glass coffin, and ate it with his back towards her. Mallory didn't mind; she knew he was just a little cold towards her. Not unkind, just frosty.

"Cleaning programme complete."

Mallory spoke with a full mouth, thickly and with great difficulty. "Thanks. Send update on the Soldier to Pierce." She'd bitten off more then she could chew, literally.

Her mouth must've been too full as the computer responded with, "I'm sorry, I didn't understand that."

She heard a soft chuckle in the corner where the Soldier stood, more like a grunt really. _He was laughing. _She'd never seen him crack so much as a smile yet with his back to her and eating the pizza she'd bought out of her own pocket, he was laughing at her. Mallory found herself smiling at his back, glad he'd worked up some sort of confidence to feel comfortable with expressing that.

She swallowed still grinning. "Sorry. Send update to Pierce."

The computer whirred. "Update sent."

As Mallory finished her slice and was looking through the notes on her clipboard, in the vague silence of lab amongst irregular beeps of machinery she could hear the Soldier creeping back up the table. The box rustled as he took another slice. Mallory made her tone as casual as she could, fearing if she turned to look at him he'd scuttle away like a frightened rabbit.

"You can have most of it if you're hungry. Just leave me like one more slice."

The Soldier responded with his usual low voice and lack of words. "Okay."

As the Soldier ate all of her pizza, Mallory was busy editing her notes to look through when she got home. She wrote in a neat cursive, making her writing slow and soft and easy to understand. They were simple commands really, a to-do list. _Wash dishes. Call parents. Do washing up. Make dinner. _

She'd crossed the last command from her list as the pizza would count as dinner and she was sure there was some leftovers if she did indeed feel hungry later on. And, as she heard her Soldier rustle the box to grab another slice, she added at the bottom with a grin on her face:

_Note to self – he likes pizza. _

That would make her smile when she went home. Mallory turned and saw the Soldier in front of her, holding a slice of pizza and looking a little lost.

"Something wrong?"

"The other doctor... Dr..." He frowned and looked at her for understanding. Mallory cast her mind back and tried to remember his other doctor's name.

"Harriet."

Although he didn't smile, his eyes showed appreciation by widening a little. "Dr Harriet used to put me straight back in cryo-sleep." He was clearly asking if he was going to go back into it soon. Mallory smiled.

"According to some of the research I read, the developers of the technology recommended a break every now and again." It seemed to relieve him. He nodded, face blank as he took a bite of his slice of pizza. "Good?"

He looked confused. Mallory nodded her head towards the pizza. He nodded in understanding.

"Uh yeah."

He wasn't a talker but Mallory was enjoying this time with him so she pressed him gently.

"I was wondering... how did you know my name? You called me Mallory when you were screaming in pain over the stab wound."

The Soldier took a bite of the pizza, waited until he had chewed and swallowed before answering quietly. "Pierce mentioned you. And Reznak when they were in the office."

_Oh. The explained it. _Mallory smiled. "You can call me Mal if you want. I don't mind. In fact I prefer it – Dr. Smith makes me sound like a boring professional and Mallory is an old woman's name."

He surprised her by staring at the floor and saying lowly. "I like it."

He was offering opinions... Mallory felt like she'd made a breakthrough so she kept him talking.

"You like the name Mallory? Seriously? Not many people do." She'd spent her entire life being hounded by the horrors of having a name like Mallory. She despised her name. It sounded so old and stupid. She was named after a hotel, in fact. When she'd asked her mother where the name had come from in her youth her mother had shrugged and mentioned her own mother had stayed at a hotel near Leamington Spa in England called Mallory Court Hotel. _Who gets named after a hotel?_

He seemed uncomfortable with the prolonged conversation but still he answered all the same. "Yeah. It's... antique." _What a strange word choice. _Mallory frowned a little.

"Antique? What do you mean by that?"

"Its the word that came to me." Even he seemed confused. Mallory knew it obviously had meant something to who he was before the frequent memory wipes and decided to let it drop.

"Anyway, just let me know when you wanna go back in the machine."

"Okay... Mal."

Mallory hid her smile as she grabbed the second to last slice of pizza, leaving the final and rather larger piece for the Soldier. They'd barely exchanged many words but somehow, Mallory felt like the Soldier had finally come to trust her a little more

It was late at night and Mallory was channel surfing. Rumlow had just signed off to bed with a lovely worded goodnight text and they'd arranged to go on another date after the success of their first one.

Mallory had grinned with satisfaction at his lovely text but had forgotten it quickly, her brain slowing with tiredness but unable switch off. She clicked the remote through the channels aimlessly, sighing as she pressed the Guide button to check what was on each channel. More and more of the same, repeats and reruns of shows that aired in the 90's, shows of the same format that had never really matched their success since they'd ended. As a last resort, Mallory switched to CNN and drew her feet up, muting the TV and sipping her tea as events played out on the screen silently. She squeezed the bridge of her nose with her free hand in an attempt to get rid of her sudden blaring headache and lent back on the sofa, hoping some simple silence would cause her brain to switch off.

Out of the corner of her eye however, the breaking news headline caught her attention. Mallory found herself more awake then ever, leaning forwards to put her cup of tea down and unmuting the TV to grab the last end of the report the straight haired, blonde newscaster was presenting. She spoke with urgency and a seriousness that Mallory could not ignore.

"-untimely suicide of business man and oil entrepreneur Oswick Owen. His family have released a statement requesting privacy at this delicate time. Paul Riviera, our business correspondent, brings you more news. Paul, the details are currently a little sketchy can you tell us what happened?"

The screen cut to a grey and sallow faced man standing outside of a large house with gated iron bars, his hair blown left, right and center by an unruly wind.

"Well, Tiffany, it seems that Oswick Owen had deliberately crashed his car into oncoming traffic as a suicide attempt that has unfortunately succeeded. Initial reports said onlookers witnessed another car, a black SUV slamming into Owen but local police have found no evidence on site of the crash and are ruling out foul play. This has been officially stated as a suicide."

The screen cut back to the pretty, grave-faced blonde in the slightly less windier studio. She shuffled her papers and talked urgently. "Thank you Paul. In other news, the Kim Kardashian mobile game app has broken records for being the fastest downloaded app in 23 countries-"

Mallory's head was whirling. The death of an oil baron... everybody knew who Oswick Owen was. A party man, always making headlines not because of his cutting edge business deals or his cut-price oil but because of his sex scandals, his infamous burlesque parties and the legendary oil spill of '09. Owen's rampant and erratic personality put his business on the map and had increased business in Saudi Arabia with the local oil barons. A_n angry oil baron at the door of her Soldier requesting to see him who had a penchant for killing off the competition and now the dead body of one of his main market competitors was dead? _It was too coincidental to ignore.

She stared around her apartment and found her gaze falling upon the single pink and perfect lily Rumlow had given her, displayed ornately in a tiny glass vase. Instead of reminding her of Rumlow like it should of, she felt herself remembering the Soldier's laughter.

Pierce was hiding something. And Mallory, because of this insane maternal streak she had developed towards the Soldier, wanted to find out what.

A/N: The response has been amazing: you guys are awesome. Please tell me what you think of this chapter! Thank you and have a lovely day


	6. Falling

It was early morning and Mallory took a sip of her coffee, standing by her kitchen table with her head buried in her tablet, reading all of the news articles she could find concerning the death of Oswick Owen.

_Oswick Owen, entrepreneur and eccentric party boy, was found dead yesterday in what is suspected to be a suicide. Owen, 38, is believed to rammed his black SUV of a highway in Kuwait in an attempt to end his life. Owen was in the Middle Eastern country to conduct top secret business contracts with his Middle Eastern patrons._

Each news report had been highly disappointing; it seemed each major and even the minor news channels and websites she'd surfed had the same vague details to go upon. The location of his death, the highway, the country, the car were all the same but there was little that differed the remaining articles. Some more gossipy articles speculated about the reasons why Owen would commit suicide in such an extravagant way, citing reasons of his recent divorce or a string of exotic lovers who had threatened to go to the press over his ridiculous and potentially illegal activities. She'd accessed one report which told of a witness statement about another SUV, but when she'd tried to access it again the page was mysteriously not found.

But she was no closer to discovering anything the police hadn't. Mallory was a doctor, not a detective. This sort of thing required a keen eye for the detail and Mallory was tired from staying up half the night, tossing and turning through nightmares of a man with a cool stare and a metal arm. It felt so real, so natural to experience the same scene of the Soldier coming towards her. The whisper, that soft and low growl-like tone which she heard anytime the Soldier rose from his coffin, was branded on her like a scar that lingered even in her waking moments. It wasn't fair that the dream wouldn't leave the forefront of her mind in nighttime hours but in the daytime? Mallory had weariness beginning to set into her bones, and she took another sip of coffee, her face twisting as the bitter beans soaked into her fatigued limbs.

Her kitchen was quiet in the early morning, and cold. The only noise was her soft breath and the noise her tablet made when she used the keyboard, that electronic tap-tap-tap. A cold drought blew in from the open windows by her bed, and drifted through the apartment turning it colder then a freezer. Mallory was glad she had worn pajamas that night, and she brought her hands on the opposite upper forearms to rub them to some warmth.

Her phone lay beside her tablet, on silent but when the call came through the screen lit up. A picture of her mother and herself, taken a few years ago at a garden party flashed up alongside with the title of Mom. Mallory swallowed her coffee and pressed the green button to answer on the screen.

"Hello?"

Her mother was far too chirpy for the early morning. "Hello sweetie! I was calling to ask you something."

Smiling, Mallory hopped up on top of the kitchen bench and put her phone in the crook of her shoulder, leaning her head down to rest her ear against the speaker phone so she could pick up her coffee. "Okay. I'm comfy. Shoot."

"How was the date?"

Mallory's smile widened to a full blown grin and the feeling of tiredness vanished temporarily. "Great! It went great. We talked, we got sushi, we got a little drunk and... yeah it went great, we're going out again soon."

Mallory's mother could hear the smile in her voice and laughed down the phone.

"Well I'm happy you're happy. You coming for dinner tomorrow? I'm making lasagne." She added as an afterthought. "Hey you could bring Brock!"

Mallory went red, picturing Brock in his STRIKE fatigues with his rifle strapped onto his back sweating heavily under her mother's interrogation. "Um... I think he's at work. And yeah, I can tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow at, say, six? Wear something nice!"

Mallory rolled her eyes. "Course. See you then. I love you."

"Bye. Love you too."

She clicked off. Mallory sat on the kitchen bench and felt the coldness of the bench suddenly seep into her thighs. She hopped down and chugged the rest of her coffee, making a vague noise of discontent and sticking her tongue out like a dog when the heat burned her mouth. Feeling like an idiot with her tongue lolling out of her mouth, Mallory switched her tablet off and walked into the bedroom, throwing her phone on the bed as she stripped to go and take a shower for a work.

Dressed in a light pink shirt and charcoal trousers, Mallory texted the armored car and was busy multitasking, strapping her heels on and peeing when the car beeped outside and they texted back. They were like a taxi service. Grinning, Mallory walked from the outside and into the car.

Another soldier instead of Rumlow stood in front of her; Mallory frowned.

"Where's Br- Agent Rumlow?"

The soldier glared at her. "He isn't here, Dr. Smith."

Mallory grew concerned and faltered on the sidewalk.

"Is he out on a mission?" The soldier's face tightened. "Is it classified? Please tell me, I need to know we're kind of dating." At least she thought they were. Even if he believed they weren't, he would still be her friend.

The soldier glanced around as if somebody was listening and nodded once. Mallory nodded back to him, offering a smile of gratitude and got into the car.

As she reached the building, she noticed a change in the Bunker's atmosphere. The technicians hurried and spoke in lower voices, and Pierce's office was determinedly empty. However the ghost of Pierce's authority seemed to linger upon the halls of the Bunker, and Mallory followed their lead of walking meekly and attempting to avoid talking. She smiled at the two guards who guarded the Soldier's home and let herself into the lab.

The Soldier was in cryo-sleep when she entered but when she'd settled, she called for the computer.

"Computer, activate protocol three-oh-four."

The green glow encased the coffin, and quickly loaded. As the coffin clicked and the doors expanded outwards, the Soldier awoke to a slight gasp. Concerned, Mallory walked over and lent over the coffin.

"Hey, you okay?"

The Soldier seemed momentarily confused at her presence, but seemed to remember her and Mallory stepped aside so he could clamber out of the box.

"Yes... bad dream that's all."

Mallory quickly ran through the usual protocols but her mind lingered on his words. The Soldier didn't stare at her as if she was an alien anymore, nor did he tense up when she touched him. He seemed to, not trust her exactly but be aware that Mallory genuinely didn't desire to hurt him. He was also aware that if she did, she wouldn't do much damage; Mallory was five foot four and weighed in at 137 pounds of mainly irregular visits to a spinning class, and too many microwaved dinners, and she was ill-trained in the art of combat. She had only the meager knowledge on how to fire a gun but most parents of government-agent fathers did. She'd been taught when she was younger, and had hated the weight of the gun in her hand and the illusion of power it had created. Her father had taught her to give her a feeling of empowerment but it had made the young Mallory feel ashamed of the fact that even in a life or death situation, she knew deep down she couldn't fire. Even if the other person was going to kill her if she didn't kill them, she knew her mind would conjure up images of the other person's devastated family if they were shot.

Guilt tripping herself was an art she had mastered over the years.

"How do you feel?"

The Soldier shrugged. "Fine."

"No hunger, sickness, dizziness?" He shook his head and Mallory pressed on. "So what did you mean? When you said you had a bad dream?"

The Soldier frowned at her and Mallory elaborated.

"Like what was it about?" Silence. Mallory turned her head and smiled encouragingly at him. "Come on. Give me something to work with here. You'll feel better if you talk about it."

The Soldier rubbed his facial hair awkwardly and avoided her eyes. The silent decision ticked over in his head and Mallory waited patiently.

"Falling mainly." He said, his voice no higher than a whisper. "I see myself falling as if I'm observing it from above."

Mallory nodded knowingly. "Fly on the wall. Go on."

"And I'm dressed differently and I look different. And I'm falling from this... I think it's a broken door or something that's been ripped from some big metal crate. I don't know, I'm not sure. And I'm falling through the air and it's so cold and it's snowing and sometimes it feels like I've fallen into an ice cold river."

It was the longest thing she'd ever heard him say and he spoke quickly, tripping over himself to get it out. Mallory allowed it to sink into her memory. Then:  
"Do you ever hit the ground?"

The Soldier shook his head. "No I just keep falling."

"And what do you think it means? Do you think it's a memory or something?"

The Soldier shrugged again. "I don't know. I've never thought of it like that actually. I just sort of thought it was some sort of subconscious projection." He looked off into the distance. "If it is a memory then..."

_That means your real memory might be trapped by the wipe. _She wasn't sure how the memory wipe technology worked; she didn't know if it deleted the cortex of the brain that stored memories or it simply suppressed them, allowing them to decay in an archive of his mind, so to speak. The articles she had read focused on the effects of the subject who had been wiped – short term memory loss, difficulty of remembering day to day things, a glazed over look, easy to manipulate – and the effect of prolonged use on a subject - which generally caused permanent damage to their brains.

"Do you dream it often?" Protocol told her to immediately report it Pierce who'd have him booked for another wipe. But she was curious.

"I don't know. I don't know how long often counts." Mallory felt sadness well inside of her.

"As far back as you can remember."

The Soldier thought for a moment. "Yeah... I've had it a few times."

This was progress. She smiled to herself, making a note to research how the memory wipe technology actually affected the patient. She composed her face and made her tone as neutral as she could manage.

"In the meantime, let's just keep this conversation to ourselves."

The Soldier's blank face didn't change and he nodded once; a command was a command no matter where it came from. And then, unable to control herself, she blurted out;

"How did you kill Owen?"

The Soldier seemed startled. "Who?"

"Oswick Owen. The owner of that oil company. You killed him didn't you?" The Soldier paused then nodded once. "How?"

"Pierce told me to make it look like an accident." She had to make her brain kick past the current stream of _why did you say that, he's going to tell Pierce_! To work out what on earth he was implying.

"So you drove an SUV into him? And disposed of the evidence?"

The Soldier nodded. Mallory folded her arms across her chest, processing the information silently.

"I'm assuming HYDRA paid off the onlookers who saw your SUV?" He shrugged yet Mallory was sure she was right. Then, he stunned her.

"I didn't want to kill him." He said quietly, looking around as if someone was listening to their conversation. "He seemed... different."

Mallory had to work to shut her dropped jaw and try to conjure up some sort of appropriate sentiment but instead she said;

"Different how?"

"He was... defenseless. Most men I kill-" Mallory winced a little. "- have some expertise with a gun or a knife. This man didn't."

"Did you know who he was?" Mallory had stopped pretending to mess around with the computer and was seated next to the Soldier, her hands resting on the examination table. The Soldier shook his head and Mallory decided he deserved to know.

"His name was Oswick Owen. He was an American oil baron, a little weird but totally harmless." Mallory tucked a strand of wayward hair behind her ear. "Did Reznak say why he wanted him dead?"

The Soldier shook his head and concentrated hard, trying to remember. "Pierce just told me to kill him and make it look like an accident. I'd left when they were discussing business. I don't care about that sort of thing."

Mallory sighed, feeling the weariness from this morning slowly creeping up on her. Suppressing a yawn, Mallory hopped down from the examination table and went about her business, her mind unraveling the yarn of the Soldier, Mr Reznak and Oswick Owen.

As Mallory exited the Bunker's lift to the world above, the darkening sky, the cold air, she noticed a STRIKE agent striding towards her. As he came closer, she recognized the current thick facial hair, hazel eyes and dark Italian skin that metaphorically materialized from the fog.

"Rumlow!" She yelled delightedly, throwing her arms around the agent. "I thought you'd be away for days!"

She'd only known he was out on a mission this morning. Had his life been in danger? It didn't look like it had been in danger. He looked good. She held onto him breathing in his familiar and comforting scent; wood, musk and currently, sweat. Wrinkling her nose, she buried her face deeper into the crevice between the plain black t-shirt he wore and the bulletproof vest, found the skin that was sightly exposed and nuzzled it with the soft bud of her nose.

"Nah it was a quick drag and drop." They pulled apart but not completely, Rumlow's arms keeping a tight hold around Mallory's waist. "Classified of course."

"Of course." She repeated mockingly, leaning forwards to deepen their embrace with her mouth. Rumlow responded accordingly; he needed Listerine and a shower but he'd do for now. Any type of Rumlow was a good type of Rumlow.

"I want to take you out tonight." Rumlow announced, when the pulled apart. Mallory laughed, casting her mind back, trying to remember if she had anything on.

"Where?" As far as she could recall, her schedule was clear for a sexy and recently welcomed-home agent.

"The carnival's in town."

She recoiled a little, surprised. Rumlow was the last man on earth she'd suspect to have an affinity for funfairs. Mallory's let out a nervous laugh.

"Carnival? I haven't been to one of those for _years_." Her gaze turned hesitant. "Are you sure? We can just go get noodles somewhere or go see a movie-"

He kissed her to silence her and stunned her by pulling apart and winking, leaving Mallory a little thirsty for his mouth.

"Carnival?" He repeated, a little breathless. Mallory beamed, all aglow with the wonder of new found romance and pulled from Rumlow completely, heading to the armored car which was patiently waiting for them to finish.

Mallory turned and shot up the ok sign with her fingers. "Carnival!"

_What does one wear to a carnival?_

This question had lingered upon Mallory's mind since she had gotten home. After working through dresses, skirts, shorts, jeans and even at one point, dress pants, Mallory closed her eyes and pulled the first three things out of her closet. A leather miniskirt, a plum top and crisscrossed leggings were clutched in her fists. _Where the fuck did I get a leather miniskirt from?_ Shaking her head, Mallory just settled for the first outfit she'd worn. So far the light blue dress imprinted with a pattern of white birds taking flight and the matching blue ballet flats were working well. A cardigan completed her slightly less sexy but more sweet look.

Rumlow, looking casual in jeans that hugged his slim hips and a shirt that sadly hid his impressive physique, had whistled when she'd approached the sidewalk silently this time and pulled her into his arms. From nowhere it seemed, he pulled another pink lily, this time in it's own pot. She took it and he put his arm around her, as they walked down the street towards the docks were the carnival was taking place.

"Another?" She touched the petals; instead of the waxy texture she expected her fingertips were met by plastic. "Plastic?"

"Yeah. So it'll never die." Rumlow looked a little abashed at his next statement. "Like us hopefully."

Mallory laughed awkwardly, shoving him playfully, attempting desperately to stay casual as her heart began to race. "Awwww! You're getting all sentimental on me."

Rumlow went bright red and Mallory stopped walking, pulled him to her, kissing him to show her appreciation in a way her words never could.

"But it's cute. You're cute."

"I'm not cute." Rumlow said defiantly. "I'm fierce." But his tone betrayed him, his voice like a whiny child being told they weren't allowed to do something. He made Mallory laugh again and they both continued down the docks, Mallory twirling the stem of the plastic lily in her hands.

As they approached the docks, the thicket of people heading towards them in a swarm increased. All ages and sizes had turned out to see the carnival and what a sight it was; visible from a distance, the carnival dominated the waterfront, stretching for what seemed like an age across the pier. Lights of all colours of the rainbow pulsed and twinkled and shone consistently in the darkening night, and the biggest lights illuminated the huge sign that stretched over the opening to the words of 'UNCLE TERRACE'S CARNIVAL OF FUN AND WONDERS'. Shouts of children and parents mingled and made the night alive with noise, colour and excitement an assault both ear-deafening and pleasant upon the senses. The rides weren't too big but there was a large Ferris wheel that twinkled and spun in the wind; lights adorned the gate and the sign and Mallory decided she wanted to go on that first. Dotted around were wooden, easy-to-disassemble stalls that offered the chance to win a small, big or giant stuffed animal in exchange for winning some game like shoot the ducks or whack a mole or something like that. Children ran across the pier chasing after rides and each other, teenagers dressed like adults smoked and passed metal flasks of what she assumed was alcohol around their group, adults laughed together and pointed towards rides in bouts of nostalgia. It was amazing to witness.

"Wow."

"Yeah." Rumlow seemed to be caught up in the same type of feeling as she was. "I didn't realize it was so big. There's only one thing I really want to go on, though."

"Let me guess." She was confident she could accurately guess. "Ferris wheel?"

He laughed and enclosed his hand with hers. "Ferris wheel."

They boarded the ride together, sitting comfortably on the bumpy leather seat and Rumlow draped his arm around Mallory. They conversed as the wheel moved its way around, but when it reached halfway, Mallory looked down and suddenly the world began to spin as the cart rocked gently beneath them.

"Oh God." Rumlow's face immediately turned to her, filled with concern. "I'd totally forgotten I didn't like heights."

Rumlow started laughing so hard at that statement that Mallory had to laugh along with him as her face reddened. As they reached the top of the wheel, the cart paused and swayed softly in the wind to the point where Mallory was clinging to Rumlow in fear of falling into the sea. As they swung back down the ground, Mallory was pale faced and laughing nervously as Rumlow described rather accurately how high they were from the floor and how much it would injure them if they'd fallen off.

"Shut up shut up shut up!" She repeated and further illustrate her anger, she pushed the laughing Rumlow into a fence when they reached the ground.

They weaved their way through the throng of thickening people as the day turned to night. As they walked, they stopped at random stalls and participated in the games. Rumlow was an ace at the shoot a duck game, firing so well the man behind the stall offered him a job. When he told Rumlow that he had beaten the record, Rumlow had lifted Mallory high like a trophy and laughed triumphantly in the night. The man let him have a pick of the various toys behind him; Rumlow let Mallory choose a small and compact stuffed duck.

At the accuracy game, with the balls and the different sized circles with points values underneath, Mallory excelled. Usually Mallory was a klutz, lost in her own world far too often to concentrate on the world around her but suddenly her game was on tonight. She scored a 450, and the women behind the stall whooped with laughter and handed Mallory the top prize, which in this game was a ginormous cuddly monkey with a puckered face and stripy fur. Mallory had gone to the toilet with it clutched under her arm. As she left she heard a small girl crying outside of the woman's toilets, and between sobs she learnt she had lost her own monkey. Her mother was attempting to console her but as the little girl saw Mallory's big monkey, her tears increased tenfold. Mallory surrendered the monkey without hesitancy and with a smile, and the little girls tears dried up.

"Are you sure? She'll chill in a minute." The mother had asked. Mallory had shrugged and smiled at them both.

"Sure. I don't need it. Have fun with it, kid."

The girl had smiled at her happily and skipped off into the sunset. Mallory located Rumlow near the magic show, and they watched it together, holding hands and whispering comments about the obvious wires and the naff clothes punctured with stifled laughter.

Rumlow financed them both a hotdog, and as he squirted mustard across the skin of his hotdog and chatted aimlessly about the carnival, Mallory found her thoughts back at the lab with the Soldier. She had left him in cryo-sleep and she was wondering what his admission of guilt really meant in the grand scheme of things. She hadn't known the Soldier before so she wasn't sure whether these feelings were normal for him. The solution to this problem came to her like the snap of her fingers; Dr. Harriet's notes. They had to be on the system somewhere, lingering in the realm of HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D's dusty archives.

"Mal!"

Rumlow's voice alerted her to the presence and she looked up, suddenly feeling the warmth of the hotdog in her hand and raising it to take a bite.

"You okay? You're thousands of miles away."

Mallory chewed and swallowed before answering. "Yeah I'm fine. Come on. Let's go on the beach."

Their walk took them down the steps of the pier, via the bin, and away from the noise and the family-fun atmosphere of the fair. The more adult settings were on the sand, as the tide washed across the shore at a comfortable distance and lapped quietly up the wooden posts of the pier. Both Mallory and Rumlow took their shoes off and walked across the sand at a slow pace, hands occasionally interlinking, having deep conversations about life and love. They settled in a spot perfect to watch the canvas of the night sky twinkle the stars against the vast and swift blackness of the ocean.

"Have you ever been married?" Mallory smoothed down her skirt and arranged their shoes and Rumlow's socks beside her.

Rumlow shook his head. "Nah. I did get close once. This girl back in the day... name of Ava. Together for four years."

Mallory nodded, impressed. "Wow. Do you mind me asking what happened?"

Rumlow shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "Work, if I'm honest. Spent too much time at the-" He raised his hands out of his pockets to slash the air with quotation marks. "-'office' and not enough time telling her she was my One and Only, my world etc."

_He still sounds bitter. _Mallory watched the shore and waited for him to retort the question.

"What about you? Ever been married or gotten super serious?"

Mallory cast her mind back but it didn't have to go that far. Her last boyfriend had been Liam, Liam Evans. He was her first serious boyfriend that had lasted more then a month and the only one who had actually made a damaging effect on her. He'd been a fellow aspiring doctor at her university, a handsome blonde man who'd hoodwinked young Mallory to the point where she couldn't go to to sleep without thinking about his face between her thighs. And eventually, Mallory had worked up the courage to ask him to a drink after work. And after that, they had became boyfriend and girlfriend.

For the majority of her adult life, Mallory had loved Liam as if he was merely an extension of her. Everywhere they went, people saw them as an inseparable duo. In the rare case that Mallory went somewhere without Liam, people would always ask "Where's Liam?". And she'd been happy.

Then she found out Liam had been cheating on her with her best friend of ten years, Danni. Liam had seduced Danni and they'd had sex multiple times, but the time Mallory caught them was on her birthday. The feeling of disgust at touching him, the recoil she felt whenever he tried to touch her and the complete utter and overwhelming feeling of _shame _and embarrassment that consumed her alienated her from Danni, Liam and all of their college friends.

"Yeah. Serious. We were together for a long time then he... well it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah. It taught me a lot of things if I'm honest." She glanced at him shyly. "It hurt though but if I could go back and change things, I wouldn't."

Rumlow made a face of respect. "That's a pretty brave thing to say. You don't look it, but you're quite smart."

Mallory was glad he had lifted the sudden tension from the air. "Was that a compliment?"

Rumlow laughed and took Mallory's hand. "Well... if I was gonna pay you a compliment I'd say you are simply really goddamn hot and beautiful and kind."

Mallory was blushing but she pretended she wasn't, tossing her hair and smiling into the distance. "That's one way to do it."

"There's also another way."

The mood had changed. Mallory's mouth was dry and she swallowed, thinking of all the possible meanings of his statement. However when he lent forwards and kissed her, tentatively, she knew there was only one meaning he could hope for. Mallory pulled him for another kiss and knew although it was their second date, she was ready for it.

"Yes." She breathed, against his handsome face. He smiled and suddenly flipped her on her back, his hand roaming on the softness of her thigh up to the sweet white lace of her underwear. As Rumlow tugged it down, Mallory saw stars and felt her nerves tingle with anticipation and excitement. It had been so long and _fuck _she was ready. His mouth was wet and warm and his stubble scratched the skin on her neck and Mallory felt nothing but the primal joy of pleasure and pain as she tugged the shirt out of his pants and pulled his belt from his hips.

She was ready.

Later as the sun set and the orgasm pulsed through her body and turned her groin into a shooting star and set fire to her senses, Mallory's weariness seemed to unclench in her bones and she relaxed against the sand, head resting against the grainy beach as she lifted her legs to tug her underwear up.

Rumlow did the same with his pants and they turned to look at each other, laughing with all of the self-consciousness and awkwardness of a recently copulated couple.

Which she supposed they were now.

At the same time the next day, Mallory was sitting in the less adult settings in the dining room of her parents house, sipping wine and cutting into a chocolate cake that oozed black sauce with a spoon. Her mother was having a non-stop narrative of the rudeness of the female shopkeeper when she'd visited her local store and Mallory wasn't listening, eyeing her father steadily over the bright bouquet.

The phone rang in the distance and Mallory's mother cut herself off. "Oh! That'll be Sandra I better answer it."

She clacked – she always wore heels in the house – from the dining room to the hallway and left Mallory alone with her father to chat to her friend from the neighborhood watch. Mallory's father was eating his cake, avoiding Mallory's inquisitive stare as she assessed him over the table.

"So..," Her dad said. "You're dating Rumlow?"

Mallory tilted her head at his tone, as it had sounded like criticism. "You don't approve?" Her father swallowed his cake and put down his fork, pushing the bowl away suddenly as if it had risen and gravely offended him.

"Yes, yes of course I approve. Brock's a good guy. I'm happy for you."

"You know him well?"

Her father wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Yes."

Mallory nodded and silence fell over the table. The question was readying itself to burst forth from Mallory's lips like a wild horse breaking to gallop and the urge to control herself out of respect for her family was decreasing. To distract herself, she glanced up at the ceiling and amused her by looking at the etched and intricate carvings of cherubs and angels playing harps that decorated the four corners of the ceiling.

"Who was he?"

"Brock? What the-"

Mallory narrowed her eyes. "I don't mean Brock, Dad. I mean _him. _Who was he before he was the Winter Soldier."

Her father looked as if Mallory had gotten up to spit in her father's eye. He glanced around the room and shushed her.

"You shut your damn mouth, missy. You signed an injunction." His voice was low as if they were discussing a little secret in the playground.

"You can discuss the secret with others in the programme, Pierce told me that-"

"Mallory!"

"-and I want to know. He is my patient after all."

Her father glanced up at the same carvings of cherubs and angels that she had been observing minutes ago, and his face contorted in an apologetic way. Realization dawned over Mallory like the sun of a new day; was the house bugged? Did the cherubs double as cameras?

For a man as old and portly as he was, he moved fast. Her dad was up and over at where she stood in seconds, grabbing her painfully by the arm to escort her outside. As they went, Mallory yelped and called out for her mother. Her father had never shown a violent streak before and Mallory became frightened as he dragged outside.

"Dad!" They exited the house through the glass doors and her father finally let go of her arm; the blood rush was a relief but painful at the same time. Mallory rubbed her arm, tears stinging in her eyes.

"I said shut up! They have eyes everywhere!" He gestured wildly to the air around them.

"I only asked-"

"Private and sensitive information concerning that project!" Her father advanced upon her as if he was about to hit her. Mallory shrunk into her frame and prepared herself for the blow that never came. "Unlike you, I have not forgotten that the programme is top secret. Few of us know about him, and even fewer have lived to tell the tale."

"What?"

"Dr. Harriet. She didn't quit. Pierce told me she quit but she was found dead in her apartment." He let the news sink in for a moment before continuing. "That's what they do, Mallory. You disappoint them, they will kill you."

Mallory knew HYDRA were capable of things like that but she'd never thought they'd do it to her. Mallory felt tears of embarrassment springing in her eyes; how could she not know they'd do that? Naive little girl. She eyed her father with new thoughts, thoughts of agents he had possibly ordered the kill on. Maybe he'd signed the order on Dr. Harriet himself.

"Tell me one thing though." She asked, deciding to capitalize on this opportunity. "Tell me how and why Reznak was allowed to hire a government funded black ops specialist."

Her father looked pained, running a hand through his face. Mallory suddenly realized how haggard he was looking recently. Pierce was stretching his workload too far and her father's health was buckling under the pressure. He regarded her disgustedly, but sighed in resolution.

"If I tell you, will you stop asking questions?" Mallory nodded. Her father sighed and continued the story with no further prompting.

"Reznak wanted Owen dead because he'd absorbed over half of the oil market. With the death of the CEO would dissolve the company and the stock shares would fall. Reznak would gain his business back and gain profit from his death."

Mallory nodded. "And what did Pierce get out of the agreement?"

"What do you think? Funding. Weapons. Training. Reznak was an oil baron, he had money. He funded the technology behind the Soldier's arm, his high-tech weaponry. Even some of the fucking STRIKE recruitment team come from Reznak's private army."

So it had been a simple exchange of goods. You can borrow our super secret assassin who's not supposed to be a gun for hire if you fund his weapons, armour and his task force that goes out on missions with him. Mallory could've laughed. _Men. _Rich white men with power. Ridiculous. And suspicious.

Mallory found it infuriating actually. The Soldier had been stabbed, he'd been harmed by the mission. And he'd told her that he didn't want to do it.

The mystery had not been solved. Merely deepened. Mallory watched her father disappear behind the sliding doors and head back into the kitchen. She felt shocked, but ready for whatever Monday would throw at her.

Of course, as she should have known, she was totally unprepared.


	7. I'm Just a Doctor

The technicians were working on a new prototype for a stronger arm for the Soldier on Monday. David had talked her through the details, but it was far too scientific for her to understand. Something about how the arm would now be somehow sensitive to touch. Rumlow wasn't present either, which was strange as he had promised the night before he'd see her at work when he picked her up in the morning.

_Maybe he's been pulled away on a mission again... _all Mallory knew what that she missed him and she desperately wanted to see him again. They'd only slept together once yet the feeling of Rumlow inside of her was ordinary now, and she craved his skin on hers, his mouth on hers. He was an addiction, something that was consumed once and desired for the rest of her days. It was hard to concentrate and Mallory, normally so chatty, so alert, felt sluggish and tired without him. Even the Soldier seemed to notice, seemingly used to her mindless chatter when she woke him from his cryo-slep and checked him for his physicality and mental well being. He responded well but frowned when she'd left him on the coffin to look at the computer. Perhaps the Soldier did indeed find her interesting and desire for her voice in the silent lab even if he rarely responded.

Rumlow... her thoughts lingered on his eyes, his mouth, his cock. His presence had temporarily banished the recurring dream of the metal armed man and the Soldier's cold eyes but she knew it would return eventually. Dreams like that always did. She just had to hope last nights dream of Rumlow and her on the beach- more like a recap of what had happened the previous night – would stay longer.

And then the computer whirred her out her thoughtful state. "Incoming call from Pierce. Accept?"

She knew Pierce wouldn't approve of the Soldier being out of cryo-sleep but it was too late to put him back. Motioning him to stay low but not hide, Mallory smoothed down her hair and smiled at the general direction of the AI.

"Accept." The computer patched her through and suddenly Pierce's face was magnified on the screen above them, a canvas of pink skin crisscrossed with lines of age. The Soldier glared at the screen with hatred; Pierce had contracted the Soldier to kill Reznak and the Soldier hadn't wanted to kill him. Mallory smiled at the screen.

"Sir?" Mallory questioned. He didn't look surprised that he was out of the coffin.

"Dr. Smith. Soldier." The Soldier didn't look up. "Come to my office. I have something to discuss with involves both of you."

And then he smiled. And it horrifying as he looked like a shark swooping in for the kill on a helpless little fish and a chill ran down Mallory's spine. Images of a shark with Pierce's head and a small fish that resembled Mallory entered her brain and she flinched when the shark dived and opened it's huge jaw.

But she hid it and smiled back. Then Pierce clicked off and Mallory and the Soldier immediately exchanged skeptical and worried glances.

"Any idea what he's talking about?" She double-checked to make sure he still wasn't on the line or listening. The Soldier shrugged at her and jumped off the coffin, padding over to the cupboard to rummage for a shirt to go with his sweatpants. Mallory smoothed back her hair again and waited for the Soldier to pull a shirt over his head and they walked from the lab. The armored guards followed them, and Mallory realized how weird they must've looked together, as she was wearing a t-shirt with Bart Simpson's face printed on it and the Soldier was barefoot. The technicians stared at the Soldier, and he ignored him as best as he could but Mallory could see their eyes glued to their technology on his arm or how his reputation seemed to follow him like an unwanted stray dog was really getting to him. The Soldier stared forwards with the intensity of looking towards a target and Mallory had her eyes on him, watching him as if he was about to attack.

The Soldier entered the office first and held the door for Mallory; she smiled up at him gratefully and murmured a thank you as she passed. As they sat, her gaze fixed at the shoulder joint of the Soldier's metal arm; the t-shirt cut off just before a patch of scarred skin and the metal arm that was implanted into his skin.

David had briefly explained the technology behind it when Mallory had questioned him. The Soldier's arm without the metal contraption would be stump just above the elbow; he wouldn't tell her what injury had caused it but he said it was a "royal mess". The metal contraption had been updated and remade over the years; evolving from a simple prototype electronic limb that allowed the user to move the thumb and forefinger into a full blown cybernetic prosthetic that connected the metal contraption to his brain through a chip and allowed him to move all fingers and bend the elbow. The metal it was made from was stronger then anything that was publicly known and gave the Soldier strength unparallelled in the battlefield. David had told her the scale design of the metal allowed for freedom of movement and protection of the chip, and he'd had a personal hand in designing the red star that adorned his shoulder like a tattoo, a Soviet-style stamp.

"Why a star though?" Mallory had asked, when they'd sat down together in the tech room. Mallory without realizing it, had made two friends in her new workplace; David sat with her whenever she had a dull moment and seemed to enjoy her company and the Soldier tolerated her pointless chatter. Rumlow didn't count as she hoped he counted himself as a boyfriend and Pierce frightened her.  
"I dunno." David had shrugged. "It just seemed appropriate."

Lost in her memories, she hadn't realized Pierce had been speaking when he said her name.

"Yes, sir?" She looked up from the patch of scarred skin that she was staring at, and into her bosses eyes.

"We'll begin then." His eyes settled on the Soldier. "New mission, Soldier."

The change was immediate; his eyes hardened from a cool glance to a frosty glare and his back straightened, stiffened. Mallory recognized this look to be the same as the one he'd had when he'd left to kill Owen, when he'd been suited up. Pierce watched this change and grinned triumphantly, a proud father.

"A few months ago, I received a note from an inmate in a Russian prison. A written -" He threw the piece of paper across his desk and the Soldier picked it up and glanced at it. "-threat from that inmate."

Upon the paper were some words written in a rushed hand in what she assumed to be the Russian written language:

_Я хочу отсюда, Пирс в противном случае я скажу._

The Soldier had understood and passed the paper back but when Mallory read it over his shoulder, she was confused.

"And for those of us who don't speak Russian?"

The Soldier answered for her. "It means the inmate is blackmailing him."

"Who was the inmate and why is he blackmailing you?"

Pierce was still grinning horribly, "The inmate is a former HYDRA agent named Elliot Kohl. He was captured and taken in a secret prison that was hidden from the Russian public. We believe they're conducting scientific experiments on the inmates."

"That's horrible."

"Indeed." His tone suggested he believed it was anything but. "However due to its secretive location, we haven't been able to track the prison." The question flared in Mallory's eyes and he answered it a second later. "Not only has Elliot been imprisoned, but also twelve members of the STRIKE task force, and seventeen HYDRA agents have been captured."

Mallory sat on the backrest of the Soldier's chair, and she noticed when the side of her thigh briefly brushed against the Soldier's back he didn't recoil from her. He seemed to be getting better.

"And how come you've just tracked the place now?"

Pierce held the note up. "The note was traced. It's deep in a forest in Russia. We have the coordinates. We're going to airdrop you both and have you both travel to the compound and get yourselves-"

Mallory heart had stopped. _He had messed up his words. Perfectly natural mistake. _"Sir, wait... 'both'? You can't mean-"

"Yes, Dr. Smith that's exactly what I mean. You're going with him."

Mallory stared at him, caught in a state of confusion and disbelief. She was dimly aware of her heart thudding in the distance, her blood boiling to the point of extremity and she was afraid it would spill from every pore as if she was a bloody waterfall. Pierce wanted her, a simple doctor, to go in the field with an assassin like the Soldier? He had lost the plot. He'd gone mental. What could she do out there? Heal the Soldier's scratches with some pine leaves?

The Soldier shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with this.

"But sir... I'm just a doctor what on earth would I do out there?" Mallory's voice was weak and pitiful; a squeak against the growl of the Soldier's voice when he spoke or the smugness that always crept into Pierce's smooth and composed tone.

"Our men are injured, mentally and physically. You will head into the forest with our friend here and tend to their wounds. The Soldier has... _swooned _over you and your abilities in our meetings together." Mallory ignored that final sentence and felt a sinking feeling, as if this was situation that would be hazardous and dangerous and a situation she could most certainly not get herself out of without causing injury to herself.

"But I've had no formal combat training." She was beginning to whine, like a child. True enough she was an official HYDRA agent but Mallory hadn't been trained in the delicate art of combat. She admired these people – the famous ones like Black Widow's legendary martial arts prowess, or Hawkeye's aim with his bow, or Melinda May's weaponry expertise – but there was no desire to become one of them. Mallory wasn't fat by any means but she was unfit; she couldn't remember the last time she had used a treadmill or a cross trainer. She could shoot a gun but preferred not to and there was no hand-to-hand training locked in her brain as a reflex apart from her brief quickly-punch-then-run encounters with any creepy guys at the student bars when she was at college.

"I've scheduled you in to receive it. By no means will you use this training; the knowledge you will be taught is a legal formality in the rare event that he cannot protect you. But your protection will be a key priority in this mission and I'm confident the Soldier will be able to protect you adequately."

Mallory glanced at the back of the Soldier's head and sighed. "I know he'll be able to protect me, sir, I trust him and his abilities it's just... surely you'd have medics who've been trained in the field who are more suitable for this job? I mean as far as I know my role only extends to a caring position for him, not a fully operational field agent."

Pierce clasped his hands on the desk and assessed Mallory with cold, critical eyes that he'd had in the interview room. She felt self-conscious under his gaze and shifted on the balls of her feet, praying he'd look away or settle his face into something less threatening.

"Mallory look around you. This is a top secret facility. I'm keeping secrets from him, from you, from everyone and I've learnt in this business to trust no one." He settled his gaze on her and Mallory breathed a sigh of relief. "Yet I believe that you can provide what I'm looking for in this. You can refuse if you want. I'll find someone else but I'll be severely disappointed."

The weight of his words felt like they were sinking Mallory underwater. Disappointment didn't mean a disapproving look or a lessening on her workload; it meant a bullet in the brain and a cover up. Mallory had walked from behind the chair and stood next to the chair, parallel to where the Soldier sat. They met each others instinctively, the Soldier's normally cool gaze replaced with some sort of feeling, an emotion. _Pleading? _He wanted her to come. Surprise flitted across Mallory, and she found herself nodding, her eyes still locked with the Soldier's hypnotic gaze.

"I'll do it."

Pierce breathed a sigh of relief.

The next week was devoted to training. The lab was cleared for them as a workplace and they had been provided with objects like guns and wooden planks to assemble and knives to play with, and Mallory had never been so sore in her entire life. Her thighs hurt, her calves hurt, her pelvis hurt, her neck hurt. Her arms hurt from holding a rifle to her chest and firing; her back ached from carrying the same rifle across her back.

Although it was hard and Mallory ended each four hour session, two a day with an hour break in between, with sweat dripping down her and an unattractive grimace plastering her face, it gave her a chance to see the Soldier in action. He'd asked HYDRA agents to come and help them, and he'd demonstrated a basic attack on them on the first day. Dressed in black pants and no shirt, as always, the Soldier had moved with a grace she could only described as beautiful. Despite his metal arm, his flips and spins mastered with athletic prowess she could sing about were not slowed down by the metal. He used anything and everything in his environment to execute his moves with fluidity and speed of a superhuman. He was mesmerizing to watch, a dancer, a fighter, aggression and beauty rolling together to create a destructive force that you couldn't help but watch. That same hypnotic feeling she'd gotten when he'd silently pleaded with her to say yes to this mission washing over her as his limbs and hair slid and fell and flipped and landed with on point precision.

Mallory hadn't exactly mastered the moves yet; her attempts to copy him had gone from shockingly awful to pitiful. He never spoke of his disappointment with her slow progress but it was there every time she jumped too soon, or landed wrong or was too slow or fast. Bruises covered her, wrapping her limbs in a canvas of black, blue, yellow and red. But she was getting better. No longer did she land dangerously on her back when she attempted to flip the HYDRA agent with her hands, or use a knife (with a dummy blade of course) to stab them in the calf. She wasn't a Black Widow by any means but she was better than the average civilian.

On the final day of training, Mallory arrived in the lab to see it swiped clean of the mats they'd been using or any guards. She woke the Soldier from cryo-sleep and asked what was going on.

"I wanted to do a final session by ourselves." He'd said quietly, leaping down from the coffin to begin warming up. Mallory followed the same warm up routine, taking off her light sports jacket and running shoes so she was stripped to a pair of black leggings and a bright yellow vest top. He was through his warm ups quicker then she was, and he waited patiently, watching as she bent to stretch her legs and rose up to stretch her back.

"Okay." She shook her legs. "I'm ready."

The Soldier and Mallory stood opposite each other, standing close but not touching and waited for the other to begin. The Soldier then assumed a defensive stance as if it was normal but Mallory stood neutral, feeling too silly to drop into anything defensive or offensive in front of this highly talented, highly trained _killer._

And then he attacked. What didn't surprise her was the speed or complex maneuver he executed. Instead of just throwing a punch, he spun on his left leg to gain momentum to throw his right leg at her in a roundhouse kick. What did surprise her was the speed and simpleness of her own defensive move; she brought up her right arm as if she was getting ready to run a race and blocked the stinging blow with her forearm, rooting herself on her right leg. The Soldier nodded respectfully, waited a second then tried again with a slightly faster speed and different leg. Mallory blocked that too with her other arm. This time it had hurt more, as she'd had less control over her left arm then her right because she was right handed. But still the move was blocked from her face.

She had learnt something then. His endless drills and tactics had made an impression upon her. He nodded, satisfied with himself then walked over to the examination table. He lingered upon the weapons which lay in an orderly row, then he picked up a handgun, spun and fired in her general direction almost casually.

Mallory yelped as the gunshot rang out in the lab. He'd missed her by a wide shot, but as she stood and listened to the echo of the shot pounding in her ears, he had reevaluated his aim and was getting ready to squeeze the trigger once more. Was it a real bullet? She didn't know. Mallory had a second to move; _what I do? _Her Soldier responded in her head.

"_If they aim for you full on, drop to the floor. Gets you quickly out of the way and leaves them wondering for a second."_

She did just that. He fired again and missed, the shot whistling over her head. Her Soldier continued his instructions, a rapid fire whisper in her head.

"_Use this second. Get back up and sprint for them. Depending on how far away you are, they'll be too stunned to react. Tackling is usually the best way to go."_

She did just that, a war cry uttering from her mouth unnecessarily to try and install fear in the Soldier. She sprinted across the lab and body slammed the Soldier, hitting him with her full force.

They crashed together, flying into the examination table, a tangle of arms and legs, lying in a pile of the dented steel and scattered weapons. As Mallory had hit him, she'd felt the full surge of steel against her back, and had cried out in pain. The Soldier had crushed his left arm against the steel and dented the table from his metal arm. As Mallory untangled herself, disorientated and a little confused, she picked up the gun and aimed it for the Soldier's head, wobbling on her feet, her aim completely off course.

The Soldier sat up against the table, shifting slightly and curling his face up with pain. He eyed Mallory with the gun and nodded once. She silently placed the gun on the floor amongst its scattered brethren and held her hand out; the Soldier took it and hauled himself up with it.

"Are you okay?"

He answered almost angrily. "I'm fine."

The fact as he clutched his side and stumbled when he walked alerted her to the fact that he most certainly was not fine. Mallory sighed and draped his slightly heavier left arm across her shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Liar. I'm your doctor. You're not supposed to lie to your doctor." Mallory then realized what had happened. "Did I really hurt you? Wow, I must be getting better."

He shook his head at that and Mallory slid easily into her doctor mode. Her hands roamed his side, touching where his ribs were tenderly and asking him over and over "does this hurt? What about this?".

She diagnosed him with bruised ribs, due to the force which she'd tackled him and the way he had landed. She prescribed him with aspirin, and found an ice pack for him to hold up to his ribs to reduce the pain and swelling. As they sat, Mallory felt the guilt wash over her.

"Sorry." Yet she was grinning from ear to ear, a sick sense of pride confronting her. The Soldier didn't seem too bothered, rearranging the ice pack and shrugging.

"It's fine."

Mallory sat beside him on the coffin, feeling how hard the material actually was, and swallowed awkwardly.

"Hey I wanted to ask; you been having those dreams again?" He looked at her as if he'd had no idea what she was talking about. "The one about the falling?"

The Soldier made a noise of discomfort and shifted on the bed. He nodded once, looking towards the floor.

"Anything different?"

He shook his head again and supplied words this time. "Just the same as always. Falling through the snow."

Nodding, Mallory found her gaze fixed to an unruly thread on her leggings. She pulled it out and they sat together in a comfortable silence, both of them lost in thought.

The computer alerted them both. "Incoming call from Pierce. Accept?"

"Accept."

Pierce's face flashed up on the screen and Mallory winced; the Soldier felt her body tense up and she saw him shoot her a semi-reassuring look. It was unexpected and she smiled at him.

"Sir?"

He ignored her, speaking directly to the Soldier. "Is she ready?"

The Soldier looked between Mallory's earnest stare and back to Pierce, nodding once. Pierce grinned and began to speak at a breakneck pace.

"Mallory your free to leave. Be back at the base by eight o'clock. The STRIKE team will run you through the plan and airlift you to the Russian base. Understood?"

"Understood, sir. What about the Soldier?"

Pierce rested his knuckles under his chin and sighed. "Put him back into cyro-sleep. You can wake him up by using the timer function."

"Yes sir. Computer, run protocol three-oh-four and have the automatic timer function to wake him up at... hmm, let's say quarter to eight?"

The computer whirred, clicked and a timer appeared on the screen, counting down till then. "Computer will activate wake up protocol at 7:45."

"Thank you." The glass coffin clicked and the doors swung shut, and the glow enveloped the white capsuled shaped coffin until it was completely consumed. Mallory watched, checking his vitals and making sure he was fully asleep until she left the lab.

"I'm still pissed."

It was sometime later and although the glow of of her orgasm had finished, there was a general feeling of warmth and security as she lay in the arms of Rumlow in her bed in her apartment.

"Don't be pissed." She rocked him slightly with her naked form and grinned up at him infectiously. "Its not too bad as first missions go."

He smiled down at her and dragged his thumb across the bare skin of her back, resting just where her back merged to her breasts and gently rubbing that area.

"I know, I know it's just... there's tons of medically qualified men and women in the department yet he picks you to go on a dangerous mission? It's just annoying you know? I mean you could get seriously injured out there."

Mallory sighed, and ran her hand through his hard chest. "I know but... he trained me pretty well and I've got the _Winter Soldier _protecting me. I'll be fine."

He'd already known when she went to tell him, and he was very angry about it. As they'd sat on her sofa and watched TV together, discussing the details of the mission as Rumlow threaded his hands through her hair, he'd gone on a tirade about how stupid and lazy Pierce was getting in his missions. Mallory had listened patiently and attempted to placate his fears through a journey from the sofa to the bed. She'd silenced him for a while - if you count groans and shouts of her name as silence – but quickly after he had perked up his rant once more.

"I don't care if he's the Winter Soldier. I'm not there so I don't trust him. I don't trust him anyway even on normal missions, he creeps me the fuck out."

Mallory tensed a little, finding herself uncomfortable. "He's not creepy, Rumlow. He's just... different that's all."

Rumlow openly laughed and regarded her curiously. "Different? You mean a stone cold killer different?"

"That's not very fair. I could say the same thing about you."

"The guys an assassin, Mal. He's a puppet, Pierce winds him up and lets him go."

Mallory reasoned with him and untangled herself from his arms, sitting up to regard him across the bed with her back on the headboard. "Yeah but he signed up for that. And... there is a human in there somewhere. I've seen it."

"You've seen the human in the Winter Soldier?"

"Yeah." She didn't want to speak about if she was honest; those moments were private between them and she'd feel as if she was betraying the Soldier's trust in sharing those moments. But they had lodged into her skull. His admission that he had felt guilty when he'd killed Owen, that he was frightened of that recurring dream, when he'd laughed at her softly. She couldn't deny he was a killer, and a cold blooded one at that but she could recognize that maybe he was a genuinely decent guy doing bad things. It really made her wonder to what he was like before; had he been kind? Decent? A good man? Had he been the type of guy who paid for the first date and refused to let the girl or boy he was with take the other half? Had he always given out his spare change to the homeless on the streets like Mallory did? He was an enigma wrapped in a mystery tied with a codex that was difficult to crack; maybe impossible if it turned out that his memories had been deleted from his mind forever.

"I don't believe you." Rumlow pulled her back to him and Mallory sighed.

"Well don't believe me if you want but I had seen it. If I trust the Soldier to keep me safe, then you should do." She tried to lighten the mood. "If I do die, you can hold me personally responsible and you can have my coffee machine."

Rumlow had taken a shine to Mallory's coffee machine, hailing it to be the best technological advancement in the last few centuries over cellphones and proper fitting underwear or a working toilet. "Seriously?" Her tactic had worked.

"Yes, that's how much I like you."

He kissed her forehead, and Mallory settled in his arms, sighing a little. They remained in their own world for an hour, until Mallory suddenly remember it was almost six and she hadn't even showered. Reluctantly leaving the warm cocoon of the duet and Rumlow's naked form and arms around her, she'd left him laughing as she dashed to the bedroom to wash her hair, shave her body and brush her teeth.

As she blow dried her hair, Rumlow had used her shower. He'd came out when she was in the middle of straightening it, wearing nothing but a towel. He winked at her and Mallory giggled girlishly. She went back to straightening her hair and watched as he quickly dressed. As she was applying the finishing touches to her now smooth and straight hair, he kissed her on the forehead.

"I'll see you at the base, baby."

She smiled as he disappeared out of her door. He had assured her that he'd wanted to stay with her longer, ride the car to the Bunker with her but the STRIKE team was needed earlier. Mallory shook out her hair and quickly called her mom. She smoothly lied that Rumlow had organized a getaway break to New Mexico and she'd be home in a few days.

Her mother was a hopeless romantic, she'd believe anything.

A huge helicopter was on the top of the Bunker. STRIKE team members swarmed like ants, yelling out numbers and commands. Rumlow was at the center, and when he saw Mallory he jogged over.

"You sure you want to do this? It's not too late to back out."

Mallory eyed him over this empty statement; of course it was too late. She'd been fraught with nerves ever since he'd left her apartment. Mallory took a leaf out of the Soldier's book and shook her head at him. Rumlow sighed and draped his arm around her shoulders, walking with her to the lift area so they could travel down together.

When they reached Pierce's office, the Soldier was awake and in his frightening battle armour. Mallory's jeans and sweatshirt were taken off her, and replaced with a pair of the same type of army fatigues the STRIKE team wore, a black tank top and a black jacket which was waterproof, windproof and breathable. The shoes she now wore – ballet flats traded for bulky black boots – pinched her toes uncomfortably. The STRIKE team outfitted her with various knives and handguns strapped to her hip, her waist, her feet and arms. When she came out into Pierce's office again, she felt about ten pounds heavier and silly as if she was playing dress up.

They ran through the plan together.

"We're going to airdrop you here-" Rumlow pressed the computer screen and a picture of a forest popped up on screen. It was so ordinary that it could've been anywhere in the world "- and once you land, your GPS will activate on your watches and in your trackers. You'll travel north-" He scrolled as he followed the blue trail which represented their journey. "-until you reach the perimeter. More than likely a guard will you find you, but just in case you'll have to attract their attention. Then you'll be arrested."

"Arrested? I didn't realize imprisonment was part of the plan." Mallory retorted. David approached her with a needle and stabbed it in her arm. Mallory yelped and felt something buzz beneath the skin of her forearm.

"What the-"

David rubbed the small stream of blood and smiled at her. "Tracker. If your watches are taken off you, these will let us know where you are."

Rumlow continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "From then on, you'll have no contact with us until Kohl is dead and you can radio in the air support. Get him killed as soon as possible, we don't care how you do it or how much collateral you take with him. Only request is try not to kill any of the incarcerated STRIKE members. Pierce's orders."

The Soldier nodded tightly, his eyes abuzz with a hard activity like a predator closing in for the prey. Rumlow then turned to Mallory.

"We'll be monitoring your trackers throughout the entire mission – the Soldier has an extra one built into his arm for safe keeping – and once you're out with the rest of inmates a STRIKE team will triangulate your position and we'll come and get you. Any questions?"

Mallory exchanged a glance with the Soldier and he shook his head. Mallory followed suit and Rumlow nodded at her, before crossing the room to take her face in his hands.

"Don't worry. You'll be home in no time."

He kissed her forehead.

They moved. Boarding the huge helicopter, the STRIKE team with Rumlow, the Soldier and Mallory waited as the helicopter thrummed to life and took off from the base. The doors were shut to keep the security of the position of base but Mallory could only see desert and countryside for miles around. The helicopter was comfortable yet Mallory was nervous, her stomach tensing and knotting with terror and excitement. The STRIKE team had done this hundreds of times before and they joked and laughed between them. Only the Soldier, a veteran within his own rights, stayed silent also, seated next to Mallory, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Nervous?" Mallory asked, using conversation as a way to distract herself. The Soldier shook his head. "Do you ever get nervous?"

"No."

Mallory laughed. "I wish I could be like that. God, I'm terrified."

"Don't be. We'll be in and out." He looked at her, his eyes meeting hers. Although they were normally blue and cold, here they reminded her of stone. Willful and hard and unrelenting; a steady place in a sea of uncertainty. She felt better just looking at him; she drew him his strength and told herself to get a grip.

The ride passed easily enough, with Mallory getting more and more nervous as the helicopter lurched and swerved and flew.

Although they were heading to Europe and she presumed it would take a day to fly there, they arrived in mere hours, hovering over the forest like a giant wasp. The doors were opened, exposing a blast of freezing cold air that bit into Mallory's skin. It was lighter now, the grey dawn rising. Bleak the forest looked; nothing but trees stretched for miles on a huge canvas of blanketed snow and black dirt. She noticed a road cutting through the forest at one point but that was it. No rivers, no streams, no landmarks to guide them back their current position. The helicopter chose a landing spot and began to slowly make a descent. The captain instructed them to get ready and Mallory swung her backpack – filled with a medical bag and some other useful items for hiking in the woods – on her back to get ready.

Rumlow found his way to where Mallory stood and kissed her so suddenly her breath was stolen from her. "I'll see you in a couple of days."

He switched his gaze to the Soldier, turning it from a lovestruck puppy-eyed gaze to a full on glare at him. "Keep her safe."

The Soldier glared back and choose not to answer. Mallory kissed him again, savoring the taste of his tongue, the softness of his lips and the scratchiness of his stubble.

"I'll be back soon."

Mallory and the Soldier stood at the door, and as the helicopter thudded to a landing spot, they jumped out.

"Remember, head north till you reach the perimeter!" Rumlow had to shout over the whirring helicopter blades. "And good luck!"

The Soldier grabbed Mallory's backpack to haul her out of the way as the wasp rose and flew off. All the time, she found Rumlow's gaze locked onto hers. She was filled with fear, with excitement, with nerves. As the wasp disappeared out of her line sight – or became too small to see – and the dark forest grew silent again, Mallory turned to the Soldier. She was alone in a dark forest in the middle of Russia with a legendary super assassin.

_Wow, _Mallory thought, attempting to shed light of the humor on her situation, _there's something I'd never thought I'd get to think. _

"So?"

He moved in a circle, scanning the horizon for something then pointed in a direction through the trees.

"That way's north. Come on."

A/N: Honestly thank you so much for the kind comments and words. It really does mean a lot and does motivate me. Although it may look like I don't notice, I really do and it's genuinely wonderful to see how many of you have said you've enjoyed the story. I'm always open to constructive criticism so review and tell me what you love and what you hate and what you'd like to see in the future. The plot is NEVER EVER set in stone and I love seeing a fresh perspective on my work.

A positive reaction to an OC is also something I enjoy seeing. I tried to make Mallory as human as possible, with flaws and bad points because I hate it when people create OC's who are flawless. I know there's a lot of original story to shift through before we get to the Cap 2 stuff and I promise it will be coming soon.

Thank you so much, again! You're all awesome


	8. Unfamiliar Territory

They walked in a line formation, the Soldier leading the way with confident, quick strides, Mallory lulling slightly behind him. The forest was absolutely freezing at the dawn of the day, mist coming from her mouth as her warm breath made contact with the cold air like she was blowing smoke from a cigarette. The cold seemed to have seeped into her bones, chilling her further with every step she took. She felt like a human icicle, her veins freezing up and her heart becoming slower and slower as it slowly frosted over. The stench of the forest was subtle, that fresh, clean air scent that purged the lungs of the horrible thick city air. Alongside the air was the sour tang of dirt and salt, strangely, as if some sort of river was nearby. She couldn't hear a stream but she could smell one. Animals made various noises in the distance, a constant omnipresent soundtrack to aid Mallory's constant breathing and the Soldier's quiet chink of the arm and her backpack rubbing against the material of her jacket. They walked in a comfortable silence, through the identical trees and footpaths but always in the same direction vaguely. Mallory had no idea which way was north, or how to tell which way was north so she was trusting the Soldier fully in his sense of direction.

To keep herself occupied, Mallory found herself humming the theme tunes to certain TV shows and some of her favourite songs. If she was hiking with a friend or Rumlow, she'd engage them in a game of Guess the Theme but she doubted the Soldier had ever watched a TV show ever. She considered asking him but he was pursuing the prison with a ruthless determination that only Pierce could match when he did those shark eyes that both terrified and spurred Mallory into action. Distracting him with something as trivial as TV felt like something someone awful would do, so she decided not too. Still he had not objected to the sound of her off-key humming so Mallory took that as a good sign.

He barely spoke, just uttering commands every now and again and focusing her attention back on the mission when she stopped a little too longer to linger after a deer. The one she'd seen a few miles back was the prettiest, big long lashes fluttering over big brown eyes. She had crept up on it, getting close enough to touch it when the Soldier had stamped his foot on the ground The deer's head snapped up and within seconds it had bound through the trees.

He didn't say anything; just gave her a disapproving look, his signature narrow eyed stare. Mallory ignored him and followed him further through the trees. She had so far resisted the temptation to repeat "are we there yet?" with every ten steps but it was getting harder.

As the day wore on and it got colder and Mallory's feet were being horribly strangled by the confines of her leather boots and she could feel blisters springing up everywhere, Mallory's energy was sapped. It reminded her of her younger self who had experienced those wonderful and stressful college days; days spent wide eyed and insomniac, worrying over tests and due dates and extra credit. The Mallory who could run full throttle without having no sleep for forty eight hours on just a lot of caffeine and hope was not the current Mallory. This Mallory could barely stand a hike in the wounds without wanting to kill every single person who had guilt-tripped, manipulated or asked nicely for her to to be here. Her frustration was a slow burning fire in her stomach, yet it didn't effect the blasts of icy cold air that came from the direction they travelled in. She hadn't been travelling for a day yet and she already just wanted to crawl into a ball and die.

"How's your ribs?" She had suddenly remembered he had bruised his ribs when she'd tackled him into the steel examination table in their lab.

"Fine."

"If they start to hurt, you will tell me won't you?" He nodded. "Because there's aspirin in the backpack somewhere."

Mallory rubbed her head and smiled at him. "Do you know how to hunt? With a bow and arrow?" She was just making conversation for the sake of talking now.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Are you still having those dreams? About the falling?" He nodded at her. In the lab she was always used to his inability to express himself with words. Yet out here, him being the only ear she had for miles, she was eager for him to talk about something. Even a sentence that was longer then a few words would do.

Mallory found a question that seemed appropriate enough to ask in this darkened forest with no cameras. "Do you remember anything? Of your past life?"

The Soldier stopped fully and turned to face her, his boots crushing twigs and crisp leaves alike under his toes. His expression was one of anger but also one of frustration; a crease appeared in his forehead as he desperately attempted to cast his mind back. Mallory stopped too, watching his face change as he tried to think.

And then he shook his head, composed his face and pushed past her.

"Let's keep moving."

As the sun went down, the Soldier finally stopped. Without a word, he yanked Mallory's backpack off her shoulders and rummaged inside. When he found what he was looking for, he ordered her to go and find some dry sticks to start a fire. Mallory agreed, and sauntered off into the woods to find it.

It was freezing and it felt weird not being tethered to the Soldier; although he was a silent, brooding walking partner he was a partner all the same. Mallory could've used some company. She allowed herself to think of Rumlow as she gathered an armful of sticks, and stumbled blindly in the dark back to their new camp where the Soldier had arranged their tins of food in a line across the ring of stones that served as their fire.

"Cute." She remarked, handing him the sticks and watching him make the fire from the match in her bag. The sudden warmth was invigorating and Mallory sat down on the dirt to draw strength from the crackling fire.

The Soldier grabbed the tomato soup can she had been eyeing – never mind, she'd have the ham and pea one – and stabbed his knife in the lid, tearing it off with his metal left hand. Then he motioned for her to pass over her backpack and he rummaged through it, finding a bowl to pour the stuff in and balancing it on rocks to heat it up.

Mallory was bored so she stared up at the darkening sky. She must've dropped off for a doze as the next thing she knew the Soldier was passing her the bowl of the tomato soup and a cup of water.

"I thought this was yours-" She glanced and saw he'd opened the pea and ham can of soup for himself. Mallory hid a smile. "Thank you."

He didn't say anything. He didn't need too.

When Mallory was reasonably full she unfurled the sleeping bag and got herself comfortable as the day turned to night. Despite her worries that she would not be able to sleep well, she fell asleep to the soft crackling of the fire, and the repetitive scraping of the Soldier's spoon on his bowl as he scooped soup up and drank it down, her hungry Soldier keeping watch over her sleep.

She woke to the sound of men shouting and, a small circle pressed roughly into her spine. Rolling over to question who was there, she turned to the bright dawn of a new day, skies gray but bluer then they had been yesterday, and the angered face of a man staring down at her, sweat dripping from his nose, brandishing a rifle pointed straight at her face.

"Jesus Christ-"

Fear caused Mallory's heart to flip and she scrambled to her feet, the man with the gun waving it wildly and yelling in Russian at her. She looked across the camp and found the Soldier's sleeping bag empty, his backpack and weapons missing.

_Where had he gone? _Six other Russian men with rifles surrounded the camp, including the one who was shouting at her. She couldn't understand a word he was saying and sweat was beginning to cling her tank top to her skin uncomfortably. There was a knife strapped to her inner thigh, her outer calf and the side of her ankle but she was afraid if she went to get them, the man would blow her brains out.

And even if she had a knife in her hand, what could she do it? Right now she was the literal representation of someone bringing a knife to a gunfight. The most she could do would be to stab him in the leg and even then, if in a likely situation she'd hit the femoral artery, his friends would have shot her to pieces before she could even watch him go through hypovolemic shock. If he commanded her to get up and she didn't, would he execute her on the grounds of her ignorance of his language? She wasn't sure.

"Там еще один." Another man walked up to the one threatening to shoot her in the face, gesturing around the camp. "Там две спальные мешки."

What? Mallory frowned. Even if she had understood even a word of that, he spat his words with a rapid fire pace. It was impossible to understand. She just had to hope the Soldier was nearby and cooking up some ridiculous plan to save her.

The leader who'd woken her responded. "Где ебут это другой тогда?" He sounded patronizing then softened his voice. "Возьмите Георгий и сканировать лес для них. Мы возьмем эту суку обратно к соединению."

Mallory watched the exchange almost fascinated with them, as if they were another species. The guy who'd woken her was definitely the leader, and the man who had came up to them yelled something out and another man followed him into the woods.

"Право. Мы лучше вернуться." Two of the remaining man grabbed her and began to haul her through the words. Doing what any sane person would, she began to make as much noise as possible by kicking and screaming.

"Help me! Please! I know you're out there. Soldier!"

One of the men who was dragging her spat in her face. She recoiled, suddenly dirtier and more disgusted then she had been. Tears stung of embarrassment and horror, and she tore her hand away from the guard to wipe her face.

And then in the distance, Mallory heard it. Two gunshots, fired almost straight after one another. The men immediately forget she was there and raised their guns, four rifles cocking instantaneously. Silence and tension tightened hand in hand and Mallory slowly began to back away as the group of four created a protective shield around her. She scanned the trees, trying desperately to remember any of the Soldier's tactics regarding forest combat but somehow his black armour, metal arm or even the shiny red star didn't stand out glaringly from the canvas of bleak greenery and slight fog.

One of the Russians became impatient. "Показать себя, мать-"

He barely got to finish what he was saying with something came sailing out of the trees. The men stared at it, stunned but Mallory knew exactly what it was. A smoke bomb, developed with the funding from Reznak's business deal to deliver a choking and stinging smoke which enveloped a radius of 200 square meters and lasted ten seconds. She hoped it would hurt. Mallory squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her lips together.

She heard the bang of the bomb and the hiss as the smoke was released, and the air around her suddenly became sticky to breathe through even her nose. It was warm and humid, the climate of what she imagined a tropical beach or a rainforest to resemble. An overall unpleasant experience, as proper sweat began to roll down her face and glue her hair to her head. Around she could hear panicked men screaming and shouting, rifles triggers' accidentally being set off and the blast of gunfire so close she feared for her life. Blind and unable to breathe without drawing short, sharp gasps, Mallory stumbled through the darkness until pressure suddenly grabbed her wrist and someone threw her to the cold.

She opened her eyes just as she hit the floor. Turning, the Soldier stood above her, his moves critically but also assessing her for any type of injury with a huge rifle in his hands. Apart from her pride, she was unharmed.

"Don't move." He commanded her gruffly. He cocked the rifle and went to go running into the fog with every intention of killing every last member but Mallory remembered their mission and jumped up to pull him back.

"We want to be captured. Not burying bodies."

The Soldier's jaw tightened and he sighed. He put the rifle on the ground and stood in the middle of the clearing fog, an ominous silence falling over the air. When the fog cleared, the nearest man who was still coughing his guts up grabbed a gun and jabbed it at him. He fired but he was too slow for the Winter Soldier; he raised his left arm across his body and the bullets bounced off his metal arm.

The men stood in an impressed if horrified silence. Then the leader nodded.

They led them north, and they walked for four hours. Every time Mallory paused to catch her break with the breakneck pace of the Russians, or stopped to rearranged which blister her shoe was resting on her foot, the Russian would jab her in the back with the butt of his rifle and bark at her to carry on. When he'd finally lost his temper with her and kicked her in the back of her legs, forcing her on her knees, the Soldier had lost his own. He kicked free of his bindings, and swiped the man's balance so he lay helpless on the floor. Using only his feet, and the steel toes of his boots, he kicked into his ribs until the Soldier was yanked off him and punched for his insubordination. But the man didn't find any cause to do it again when she slowed. Mallory had shot the Soldier a very grateful look and he'd nodded back.

After the four hours, they came upon a huge gray concrete building surrounded with barbed wire fences. A huge metal gate had long metal wire bridges where men and women patrolled with huge rifles. The buzz of the electrics could be heard from afar, and sounded a little like an annoying bee fluttering in an omnipresent state. A guard outlook yelled at them, probably to state their intentions, but when the guard recognized the men with them he'd yelled at the woman on the gate to open it for them. An answering yell alerted Mallory to the loud buzz, followed by a piercing alarm that repeated a few words over and over in Russian. It drilled in Mallory's mind, and she winced when they started their convoy closer to the inside of the prison.

The inside of the compound was different. A concrete pathway surrounded with huge fences with the same electrical buzz lead them rather nicely towards the front door; surrounding that was a large white sand area with wild Rottweilers barking constantly. Mallory's heart had already been working overtime, but at the sight of the hungry Rottweiler assessing her flesh her mouth went dry and she was having four of the symptoms of a heart attack. One flung itself at gate and rattled the chains it was leashed on, singling out Mallory as it's sole target. She was sure she read somewhere that dogs could smell fear and attacked those who were weak; whether it be myth, fact or an old wives tale, this dog was definitely targeting the weakest and the most meek of the lot. She looked up from the Rottweiler and found the Soldier, in front of her, had turned to offer her a sort of semi-reassuring look. Despite his reluctance to show any type of emotion, it had worked and Mallory, like she had on the helicopter, drew her strength from him.

Another man met them at the front door, glaring at their two new prisoners. Metal detectors were scanned over their bodies, and they were both stripped of their armour. Mallory's jacket was torn from her back, her boots forced off, knives taken off her. Even the hidden knife inside her tank top – which she hadn't actually realized was there – was discovered and taken off her when the guard had patted her down.

The detector went wild on the Soldier's arm. The guard sighed and went to pull his arm off, but it wouldn't work; the implant was surgically attached to her Soldier's skin. Pulling his cybernetic arm off would be as hard as pulling a real arm off; David had assured her of that with pride. Once the guard was frustrated with the fact that it wouldn't come off and seemingly satisfied there was no hidden weapons, he sighed heavily and waved them in with a harsh word.

They led them through the door that sounded an electronic buzz; it reminded her of the door back in her lab. The corridor lead straight down and on each side of the room was cubes of cells blocked off with tall metal bars, a small gap filled in where a metal plate stood bearing a few numbers and some words in Russian. These cubes had one bed, one toilet, and one small barred window to let light in. Inside these cubes prisoners were held, hard eyed and sour faced. Their order seemed random, sometimes a cell would have two people in, sometimes it would have eight. However after they passed cube after cube, she noticed they did have some sort of pattern.

They ordered by ethnicity, or the country they belonged too. A group of sombre Japanese men were cubed next to a mixture of male and female glaring Brazilians; across from them were a couple of crying and some silent Chinese people, next to them was a solitary Spanish man muttering his language on the bed and clutching a Bible. A crazed looking German man threw himself at the bars and began jabbering wildly and as they reached an empty cell, next door a heavily pregnant French women stirred with surprise and suddenly gasped, and her friend lead her to sit down on the bed to keep her comfortable.

They were herded into the empty cell, the Russian guard laughed and shut the doors. He produced a key and leisurely swung it this way and that in his hands, and Mallory could almost feel each prisoner praying in their respective language to their respective Gods that he would drop it. He then suddenly locked the door of their cell and walked back down the corridor. When the door clanged shut and an electrical buzz sounded that it was locked, Mallory and the Soldier exchanged glances.

"So..." She said, sitting on the lumpy bed. "We've been captured. Now what?"

The Soldier looked around, looking less aggressive and more melancholy now he had been stripped of his armour. "We wait."

Mallory looked around the entire prison and lowered her voice. "I don't see any members of the STRIKE force, or Kohl."

"They're probably keeping them in a separate block. These are the civilians." He said the word like it was synonymous with _terminal illness. _

The Hippocratic oath buzzed in Mallory's mind and she found herself shyly stealing glances at the French lady in the cell next door; through the bars she could see she cradled her huge stomach with her hands protectively. Her clothes were drab but clean. Her hair needed a wash and she looked a little pale but healthy enough; no visible signs of any wounds. She assessed her with a doctors assessing gaze and estimated her to be pretty far in her pregnancy. Judging from how uncomfortable she was looking, she was probably ready to pop any day now.

The lady seemed to realize that she was being stared at she looked up."Take a picture. It'll last longer." Her voice was heavily accented but her English was perfect. Mallory found herself smiling and stood to converse with her through the bars.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." She nodded towards her stomach. "How far along are you?"

The woman took it the wrong way. "Why? You want to know I'm ready yet? Are you going to try and hurt me and my baby? You won't touch us! You won't touch us!"

Mallory glanced back at the Soldier, who shrugged at her seeming to not be bothered by the shouting French woman. Mallory attempted to calm her down.

"Hey, hey I didn't mean anything by it. I just-"

The woman didn't hear her, repeating the same phrase. "You won't touch us! You hear me, you fucking Yank bitch? You won't touch us!" She suddenly moved at surprising speed and sank her teeth into Mallory's hand where she had rested it on the bars. "_Vous ne nous touchez pas_!"

Mallory cried out when the woman's teeth made contact with her hand, the bite hard enough to draw blood. The Soldier was up and instantly had kicked at the bars, scaring the pregnant lady off. He dragged Mallory into the corner, where they sat on the bed together. Blood, scarlet red ran down Mallory's hand like a fine bracelet, tickling her wrist and reminding her of an insect crawling up her skin.

Mallory looked at the woman with concern and sucked the blood off. "Ow. Jesus. I'm not going to hurt you."

The woman's friend directed an angry tirade of French gibberish to her, settling the pregnant lady back on the bed. The Soldier ignored the French women yelling, and tore the cuff of his right sleeve off and pressed it against Mallory's wound.

"Ow. I didn't realize you were a doctor." She said sourly. The Soldier raised his eyebrow at her and Mallory found herself smiling until he pressed his hand on her newly formed wound; she tore it away from his grip and bit back a gasp.

He frowned at her and grabbed it back. "Stay still." The command was installed in every word.

Mallory made a face but obeyed him, holding out her bloodstained wrist so could tie the cuff of his sleeve around it. When they were done, the Soldier returned to his previous seating position and seemed to ignore Mallory completely.

She lay down on the bed, sighing, knowing she was going to be in for a long night.

Day turned to night, then back to day and night again. Two full days had passed. Two full days of sweat and dirt from the tightly packed and heated bodies within the compound. Two full days of trading places with the Soldier from the bed to floor; the night spent on the lumpy and hard bed was a walk in the park compared to the hard concrete floor. Two full days of a brooding Soldier who was becoming more pissed off by the hour, and a filthy Mallory who desperately needed... well there was no reason to be gentle... a shit. Two days until something wonderful happened.

Breakfast came it seemed whenever the guards desired it to. They weren't escorted into a separate dining room, but given their breakfast in their cells. Consisting of porridge with no sugar or honey, it was swallowed with a cup of water that was confiscated ten minutes later whether you finished it or not. Dinner was sometime later, a can of some sort of red stuff that passed as meat. Bathroom breaks took place whenever you liked but there was something primitive about shitting in front of the Soldier that she tried to hang on. Even if they were able to get sleep when the sun went down, some prisoners would talk constantly during the night or cry loudly, and the pregnant woman had difficulty getting comfortable so she was always shifting mere meters from her.

Being in the field on this mission was a lot less exciting then she'd imagined. Yes she'd been airdropped into the middle of a Russian forest and captured by their forces and she'd ran blind through the Soldier's smoke bomb, but it seemed it was ninety percent wishing for someone to magically rescue her and buy her a McDonalds. They'd seen no sign of Kohl or any of the STIRKE or HYDRA agents who had been imprisoned.

The guards had passed the cubes as normal on the third day and collected their food. However, one of them began to cough loudly. Mallory had ignored him and began counting the cracks in the concrete ceiling. However when the guards had begun to yell worriedly, and even the Soldier started towards the iron bars, Mallory had stood up. She saw the man was on the ground, lips blue, pale face, wheezing in a way that resembled an asthma attack.

"Hey! Hey!" The guards had ignored her. "I'm a doctor I can help him!"

The Soldier repeated her words in Russian. The guards had looked up hesitantly until the man was spluttering up rather horribly. One of the guards nodded towards her cell and another freed her.

She ran towards him and immediately began searching his pockets.

"Where's your inhaler? Inhaler!" The Soldier translated quickly and the man shrugged. A Russian female guard had grabbed Mallory's shoulder and yelled something. The Soldier translated, eerily calm with the panicking scene.

"She said he left it at home." Mallory rolled her eyes, trying desperately to remember her training.

"Okay..." She stopped the search and turned the Soldier. "Do they have any antihistamines?"

He frowned at her but asked all the same. "Yes they do."

"Right. Bring the antihistamines." The Soldier told the guard and the guard raced off in search for coffee and drugs. She cupped the mans cheek, who was beginning to properly panic and turned to his friend who was supporting his head.

"Calm him down!" The Soldier relayed her instructions and almost immediately the man began to practically sing to the patient on the ground. The women returned, carrying the drugs and a bottle of water. Mallory put him a safe position for him to safely swallow the drugs and water, then putting him in the recovery position in case he swallowed his tongue. Eventually, he stopped looking as if he'd been strangled and straightened up. Mallory raised herself up and found herself staring into the eyes of the Russian woman who had retrieved the gifts.

She said something and the Soldier translated without prompt. "She said thank you."

Even with her thanks, Mallory was locked into the cell again. Sighing, the Soldier sat back down on the bed as the guards dispersed.

"You're a doctor?"

Mallory looked up and saw the French woman who had bitten her looking at her curiously. Too exhausted for words, Mallory nodded.

"I was wondering… is morning sickness common for the third trimester? Because with my daughter, it disappeared in the second?"

Mallory bit her lip and thought about it for a moment. "Really, there's no set time for morning sickness. I've had cases where women have had it up until birth. But usually, that type of morning sickness can be traced down to emotional issues as the due date gets closer a kinda pregnancy anxiety. What you're going through may be just a reaction to your surroundings, and your… situation."

There was a pause as she contemplated, then the woman said. "I'm sorry for biting you."

The sentence was so absurd Mallory had to laugh.

"Its okay. What's your name? I'm Mal."

The woman cradled her stomach and smiled fondly. "I'm Ariadne. Ariadne Kohl." She gestured to the other French woman.

"That's my daughter, Sofia Kohl."

The second name rang a bell and Mallory's jaw dropped. She exchanged a worried glance with the Soldier before realizing what she had said.

"Kohl? You wouldn't happen to be... Elliot Kohl's wife would you?"

"Yeah. How did you know that? Who are you both?"

_Now this complicated things. _

A/N: I'm apologizing for two things; one is my absolute bastardization of the Russian language. Apologies Russian readers, but Google Translate was my only friend. And another is the quality of this chapter. I really think it could've been a lot better but I've been so busy with school lately of course the quality is going to slide a bit. Of course, it's readable but I may have to keep editing it.


	9. Fractured

**Trigger warning: a lot of gore in this one so be warned if you're squeamish. **

Ariadne just stared at Mallory.

Ariadne was a lot older than she looked. Mallory had stupidly thought she was thirty three but with a daughter in her early twenties, it put her age easily at forty. Ariadne, despite her slender frame and dire surroundings, took to pregnancy well with glowing skin and shiny hair. Her daughter was pretty too, pug-nosed, with blonde hair that spiraled down her back like a princess.

Mallory could feel her blood pulsating in her ears as she tried to cope with this sudden shock; her head suddenly went heavy and her mouth went dry. Her senses rocked as she attempted to process this information without vomiting or revealing something that would compromise their mission and get them into trouble.

"Well? How did you know that?"

Mallory looked to the Soldier, appealing for some guidance on how to handle the situation. He was stone; still and unchanging and frankly unhelpful. Mallory swallowed and decided to go for a half-truth.

"We're from... HYDRA." She wasn't sure how much she would know about her husbands work but when the woman stiffened Mallory took it as a good sign. "We're here to-" _Get my assassin to kill your husband. _"-rescue you, your daughter and husband."

Her mask of worry crumpled and she bent over slightly, her large stomach hiding most of her thighs. "_Dieu merci_! We thought you had forgotten about us. Elliot did say he was going to try and get us out."

Mallory's mind kick started as she began to unravel the mystery of Elliot Kohl. The explanation that Elliot's wife had also been taken explained why Elliot had suddenly decided to reach out and blackmail Pierce. His wife's impending pregnancy, his daughter beginning to reach maturity… any sane dad wouldn't want that to happen in prison. He had sacrificed his life to try and get them out. _Brave man._ But what could Kohl know about HYDRA that would scare Pierce so much that he'd want to send his assassin to get rid of him? Did Pierce even mention to her what Kohl's position had been in HYDRA? She cast her mind back and remembered when Pierce had revealed she was going into the field.

"_The inmate is a former S.H.I.E.L.D/HYDRA agent named Elliot Kohl. He was captured and taken in a secret prison that was hidden from the Russian public."_

Agent could mean a lot of things. Mallory was on paper an agent of HYDRA but her role was entirely a medical one; apart from this unexpected venture in enemy territory. Even David, her technician friend, was an 'agent of HYDRA'. So what did Elliot's agent status mean? Scientist? Foot soldier? STRIKE agent like Rumlow? It was clear that Elliot had some information on HYDRA that could bring it down or even compromise Pierce's position within the company.

Mallory tried to smile. "Nope. We just tracked that note and here we are."

Ariadne at her with sudden awe. "We had given up hope." She glanced towards the girl in her cell, who upon reflection, Mallory decided was a lot younger than she looked when she had first seen her.

"How long have you been here?"

Ariadne shrugged. "Some time after they told me Elliot had been taken... like four, five months?"

Mallory's eyes widened. "Wait... they took you _after _Elliot? Why?"

Ariadne nodded. "I don't know. I think and Sofia agrees that they took me because of my... state. There's a big house outback and they took him there along with the other HYDRA agents." Mallory was confused then noticed her gaze flicked down to her stomach. She sat back and suddenly Pierce's voice flashed through her head.

"_We believe they're conducting scientific experiments on the inmates."_

Mallory found herself ready to cry. She had been airdropped into a horrible prison, bordered by Rottweilers and angry guards who were prone to asthma attacks and confronted with the heavily pregnant wife of the man she was supposed to allow her assassin friend to murder. It was insane. If it had of been one of Mallory's vivid dreams, she would've laughed. She smiled at Ariadne, as her vision clouded with tears and nodded to her stomach.

She tried to lighten the mood. "So? When are you due?"

It didn't work. Instead of happiness and that glowing smugness pregnant woman have, Ariadne matched her gaze with downright terror. "Tomorrow." She whispered, looking around quickly if any guards were in earshot. It was obvious. The guards wanted the baby for something. Mallory nodded and turned slowly to the Soldier.

He was sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees and he seemed to realize she was staring at him as he slowly turned his gaze upwards. Shirtless with the bottom half of his fatigues on, starvation took the Soldier worse then it had in the lab; his fatigues hung from his hips. Mallory marched over to the other corner of the cell and beckoned him over, crooking her finger at him. He came to her slowly but confidently, walking with his shoulders thrown back and his face composed.

"We can't do this." She hissed at him, keeping her voice in case Ariadne happened to overhear and begin yelling at them both in French again. "You can't kill him."

"Who?" Genuine confusion clouded his face.

"Elliot! The whole reason for this mission is a lie!" Her voice was beginning to creep upwards in volume and she lowered it when she noticed Ariadne looking over.. "Elliot was only doing it to try and save his family."

That creepy blank look crossed his face. "My mission is to serve."

He sounded robotic. A flash of something crossed his eyes; confusion? He was confused at her questioning of this mission when new variables had been thrown in. Mallory had been a little unsettled but ultimately fine with Pierce ordering the attempt on Kohl's life. For the good of the state, she had reasoned, as she'd painted the picture of Elliot as a traitor to his country. However now that he had a pregnant wife and a daughter in the mix, and the only reason of his betrayal was to protect changed the matter entirely. And for once Mallory found herself seeing the monster within the Soldier. Rumlow's words haunted her- what were they? Creepy and scary. It seemed to strange to think of it now how she had defended him. There was no trace of the Soldier who had eaten pizza with her, who had laughed with her, who had trained her how to protect herself like he did. That man, that _man_ who represented a nerve ending so raw it had tried to cover itself up in layer upon layer of false skins and names who she had believed she had befriended was gone. She saw a shell in front of her, a human body who resembled a friend occupied by a blank wind up toy that went in which direction Pierce ordered him too. He knew nothing of human feelings; he couldn't even attempt to understand empathizing with her reluctance to allow him to do this. And Mallory was _disgusted_. She recoiled from him and his brows lifted a little in surprise.

"Serve? You call murdering a man attempting to protect his family as service?" A pause then the Soldier nodded as if the answer was plain as day; Mallory's temper was rising and she found herself wanting to hit him or cry. She always wanted to cry when she was frustrated. It was embarrassing. Her father had once told her that she had less control over her emotions than a middle aged woman did over her bladder. At the time Mallory had laughed and protested; she was beginning to see he was right.

Mallory was crying; a tear rolled down her cheek of anger and frustration. "So you just gonna do whatever Pierce tells you, huh? You're going to kill that man just because fucking Pierce said so?" She was swearing. She never really swore.

"Yes."

It was amazing. He saw nothing wrong with that. He was even staring at her if she was insane for not wanting to do this. Mallory found herself letting out a short, sharp laugh of shock. Another tear fell and she angrily wiped it away. The Soldier's frown deepened the crease between his cold eyes.

Colder then Pierce's, she decided. _He's awful._ Aesthetically the Soldier was pleasing to observe but his soul was uglier then she could've ever imagined. Scarred and damaged beyond repair. Mallory believed everybody could be saved from the darkness within them but maybe, maybe the Soldier was exempt from that.

_He's never needed to be saved. He's always been the darkness. _She'd merely been blinded by her light.

Mallory didn't do yelling or violence; she couldn't bring herself to explain why she hadn't backhanded the Soldier across the cell to show her frustration. Mallory wasn't a violent person but she was an expert in a different type of more damaging warfare. Words, she knew from her own experiences, always cut deeper then knives. She brought herself as close to him as she dared, getting right into his ear and his personal space. His facial hair brushed against her cheek, and she pressed her body close against his tight and large frame. Her arm took his non-metal forearm and he stiffened at the sudden intimate contact, his head bowing slightly as he lent towards her in curiosity, hair falling across his eyes and Mallory kindly tucked it behind his ear. She looked back, and saw that typical expression men wore when they thought they were about to be kissed. She pulled on his forearm and he bent down to listen. Lowering her voice, she stood on her tiptoes and whispered directly into his ear, venom pouring out of her in a display of emotion;

"You're a _monster._"

When she backed away there seemed to be nothing in his eyes. And Mallory turned away from him, backing into the corner of her cell, deeply disturbed and incredibly upset. She stood in the corner for what seemed like an age until she heard him speak.

"I don't want to kill him. But I have to." The admission was so child-like, so heartbreaking Mallory felt herself crumble on her sudden hatred towards him. Her breathing slowed to a more comfortable pace as she blinked hard, tears falling down her face. _Maybe he could be saved. Maybe he wouldn't be the big black mark. _

"You don't have to. You don't have to do anything." Her voice was cracked and rough. She spun and saw him, leaning against the wall of the cell. "You have a choice."

The Soldier shook his head defiantly; Mallory found herself walking forwards and placing an arm on his shoulder. He tensed at the contact and lifted his eyes to stare at her.

"It might not feel like you have a choice but you do, you really do." She remembered something she had read in the brainwashing articles. "The memory wipes take away the feeling of free will but they don't remove it. It just makes you... easier to manipulate, easier to convince you that you have to do this. You don't."

The Soldier looked at the ceiling and said quietly. "But I have to."

Mallory's lower lip trembled, frustration and sadness rolling in one. "So will you?"

The Soldier shrugged. Mallory stood in front of him, her eyes drinking in his huge and currently buckled over frame. She laid a hand on his shoulder and moved it upwards to his cheek; tensing at first, he hesitantly leaned his face into her hand and sighed. Cool air blew softly across her wrist. The simple but sweet gesture almost made her cry again and raised goosebumps across her arms. That sigh seemed to break a couple of barriers he'd had towards her.

"I'm asking you as a friend." His brow furrowed. "As probably the only person in this world who actually gives a crap about you. Please. Please, do not kill this man."

The Soldier swallowed, the Adam's apple in his throat bobbing as he forced down any words. He nodded once and Mallory smiled.

The contractions started three days after. Three long, awkward and confusing days.

The day she'd convinced him of his choice, he'd murmured quietly that there was room on the bed for both of them, as long as she didn't touch him too much. Still it was awkward, almost like sleeping with someone of the opposite sex whom you had an odd history with. He suggested top and tail but Mallory felt there was something that would be extremely weird if she rolled in the night and found herself face to face with the Soldier's black boots. So they'd slept side by side after that every night, her Soldier always being the big spoon.

It was warmer, she did have to admit, which made it a lot easier to sleep. The prison was deep in the forests of Russia, and they'd taken Mallory's jacket from her so she shivered most of the time. She had no idea how the Soldier coped with no shirt on but seemingly he was used to being cold. He was the _Winter _Soldier after all, although she had presumed the nickname came from his frosty personality, not his tolerance for the cold. Sleeping on a freezing concrete ground with a cold drought blowing over her was not conditions which made her sleep well; usually she preferred to be cocooned in a duvet or in Rumlow's arms.

That night they had slept in the same bed for the first, she had rolled on her back to get comfortable she had noticed him asleep beside her. Relaxed, with a slightly slacked mouth and his metal arm glinting in the moonlight, the star looking more black then red. His face was sweet and young, free of all of the worry of consciousness. He always looked a lot more relaxed to be properly asleep then he did in cryo-sleep. She did confess to when, he had nuzzled the bed to rearrange the position of his head and a lock of hair had fallen into his eyes, she had reached over to brush it out.

He always slept towards her, so the first thing she saw in the morning when she got up and stretched towards the ceiling was the Soldier looking at her with half-closed eyes. Sometimes during the night he would whimper, and she would hear sighed words in his dreams of numbers, names and places. Once she could've sworn he had whispered her name, and when she'd turned to investigate he was facing her with relaxed look across his face that had made her smile. Every night without fail, he would shift in a way which made his metal arm had fall across her waist. The cold metal would land on the exposed skin of where her tank top would ride up during the night. Every night she would gasp awake, and one time he had shifted again, moving closer, wrapping his arm around her.

No harm in getting comfy, she supposed. But it felt weird. As if she was cheating on Rumlow although she had done this sort of thing with Danni in college many times when they'd both been drunk after a night out. Purely platonic.

Mallory was asleep when she heard it. A small whine in the night which made her open her eyes and groan. She looked around in the darkness, convinced that a Rottweiler from outside had came in and was getting ready to attack or the Soldier was having a nightmare. She turned to check the Soldier; fast asleep. Getting out of bed, she quickly located the source. A black-eyed Ariadne doubled over in the cell, panting hard.

"Ariadne!" Mallory scrambled towards her cell and yelled so loud the Soldier stirred in the bed, and sat up, running a metal hand through his mussed hair.

Ariadne tried to come closer to Mallory but doubled over and let out a scream which was cut short by her daughters hand clamping over her mouth. Mallory watched the scene, frozen with terror.

"The baby... _merde!_... Mallory the baby is coming." Sofia was by Ariadne's side, rubbing her back and murmuring sweet nothings in French. The Soldier was by Mallory's side, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Can you deliver it?" Ariadne asked, looking at her earnestly through the bars. A guard was attracted by the noise and came over to yell at them to be quiet; the Soldier left her side and went to calm him.

"I-"

"Can you deliver it?!" Ariadne shouted. Mallory found herself looking into the eyes of two terrified females, one a young frightened girl and one a frightened pregnant woman. Mallory wasn't a midwife but she wasn't stupid. Giving birth to a baby was a common medical practice and it had been taught to her during college. She knew how to deliver a baby; of course he knowledge was a little rusty and they didn't have access to proper equipment. But she could do it. She was sure she could do it.

"Yes." Mallory was nodding wildly. "Yes, I can deliver it. I just need the guards to let me in." She looked questioningly to the Soldier. He spoke rapid fire Russian to the guard who reluctantly unlocked the gate and allowed them both out.

Then things began to spiral downwards. The Soldier jumped and grabbed a hold of the bars above him. Using the momentum he swung his legs upwards and kicked the guard in the face. His keys and flashlight clattered to the ground, alongside a loaded handgun. The Soldier bent to grab it and almost casually, shot the guard who was running up the space between the cubes to arrest him.

Mallory's heart was thudding and her jaw dropped. "Why... why did you-"

The Soldier bent to pick up the keys, and placed them on a loop on his belt. "I took a chance. Kohl's in the warehouse. I can get him and the STRIKE team. You stay here, deliver that baby."

Mallory stared at the Soldier, throat tight.

"I can't leave you." She protested, her mind automatically adding _because I'm afraid you'll murder Kohl_.

The Soldier was turning to leave the room but he stopped and spun to face her. "Deliver that baby. I'm going to find my stuff." He went over to the guard he had shot, unclasped the handgun from his belt and the keys and slid them across the floor to her. They bounced against her shoes, and when she looked up from her feet the Soldier was gone.

She bent to pick the keys, mind whirring as her body functioned on autopilot. She wanted to go and help the Soldier, to protect Kohl from him and to protect himself from him. Part of her urged herself to go and join him; the rescue would take less than twenty minutes once the Soldier was suited and booted and Ariadne's contractions could last hours. But the majority of her was rooted to the ground, afraid to leave the screaming pregnant woman and her crying daughter. Stress made labour difficult and in these rotten conditions it would be even worse. Stress would make the delivery harder on the mother and the child. And with all of these people in cages watching them, she indeed felt sorry for Ariadne.

What would be the priority? Mallory saving Ariadne's husband from a possible certain death if the Soldier chose to kill him or Mallory delivering Ariadne's baby as safely as she could manage? It was a no-brainer really, but forcing herself to leave the Soldier and his possible actions would be hard. _There's always a chance he won't kill him. _She had to believe in him. She had to believe the Soldier would make his choice and keep his promise and not kill him. She dived to unlock the cage, kicking the handgun awkwardly into the cell.

She ran to the panting woman and gave the keys to her daughter. "Ariadne, tell your daughter to go into the other cells and take their blankets."

Ariadne grabbed Sofia and in rapid fire French relayed Mallory's instruction. The young girl nodded, and ran off.

Mallory dragged the mattress on the floor, and draped Ariadne's arm over her shoulders as she settled her onto it. Ariadne sat with her back to the wall, panting heavily.

"_Ici, Mallory_. _L'homme dans cette cellule là-bas pensé celles-ci seraient utiles_." Sofia had returned, gushing in French, holding out an armful of orange blankets to Mallory and on top, a pair of latex gloves. She had no idea where she had gotten them from but she smiled to show her appreciation. The young girl sat behind her mother, tightly lacing her fingers with her mothers and squeezing hard. Mallory moved her hair out of the way and slid the gloves across her wrists. _You can do this. _

Mallory sat in front, and parted the woman's legs. She pulled her skirt above Ariadne's waist, and peeled off a pair of discolored underwear she had probably been wearing for months. Revealing a pink and unshaven vagina, Mallory swallowed any type of disgust she was feeling and got to work.

Mallory roamed inside Ariadne and she gasped, arching her back slightly at the sudden foreign feeling. "I do not mean to be disgusting, Mallory, but another place, another time and that would feel _wonderful_."

Both Mallory and Ariadne laughed; Sofia made a face of disgust. "_Dégoûtant!_" She moaned, but she was grinning. Mallory's face fell; Ariadne gasped.

"What is it? I want to push. Can I push?"

Mallory removed her hand and sighed, her teeth sinking into her lip before she spoke. "I- you're fully dilated." She swallowed and nodded. "You can start pushing. Deep breaths now. Just take your time."

Ariadne nodded, then sucked in a breath. Mallory braced herself for the oncoming scream and was glad she did.

The howl as Ariadne began pushing the baby out echoed around the prison cell and made it seem ten times worse then it was. Mallory's ears felt like they were bleeding and she felt even more sorry for poor Sofia who had gotten the worst of it when she had screamed. As the pain wore off, Ariadne was sobbing.

"It never hurt this bad... the first time." Mallory wished she could wipe away the woman's tears but her hands were covered in bodily fluids.

"It's stress. Fear and adrenaline, from where you are and what's happening." Mallory leaned in close and said passionately. "You have to stay strong, Ariadne and stay calm... for Sofia-"

Ariadne cut her off with another howl.

The prisoners in the other cubes were panicking, some doors were open, others were locked. The ones whose doors were open were searching frantically for a way out. One saw the abandoned handgun in Ariadne's cell bent to pick it up for protection.

"Hey!" Ariadne yelled after them. He laughed and began running down the corridor only Sofia tripped him and grabbed the gun. The young girl aimed it at the man's head and he surrender, racing off in the other direction.

At that moment an alarm began to sound, loud and piercing rivaled only by Ariadne's screams with flashing red lights.

Mallory couldn't let Ariadne see how scared she was. She tried to control her breathing and stop the floodgates from unleashing but when she locked eyes with Sofia and the girl shook her head as if to say _please don't lose it, please don't cry _it made her want to cry more. Sofia's own green eyes were shining like emeralds, as she attempted to stop crying herself. Ariadne's back arched as she howled in pain, her toes curling as she pushed with every ounce of her strength.

"It hurts!" She was wailing.

Mallory crouched between her legs and had to shout over the noise. "I know it hurts! It'll be all over soon, just keep pushing!"

"What's that noise?" She had just noticed.

"I don't know!"

An explosion echoed in the distance, rattling her eardrums and shaking the ground beneath them. There was so much noise, too much. Mallory couldn't concentrate. Her eardrums felt as if they were going to explode. Her heart was thudding fast as adrenaline and fear pumped the rate above anything normal. This mission had progressed at a pace that Mallory couldn't keep up with, a breakneck, breathtaking speed that sent her dizzy and angry. This woman should have been giving birth in a dirty prison. _What had they needed her for? _

Ariadne screamed again as the sirens continued to wail. Gunfire rattled, bursts of assault rifles and shouts of different tongues mingled in the air; she picked out Japanese, Russian, English. She tried to listen but it was too loud, the siren wailing lights flashing, an assault on every sense. The earth exploded and rock, and Mallory felt as if the walls were closing in one her. Too much. This was too much.

"Push!"

Ariadne screamed, her daughter screaming with her. Ariadne then paused, short sharp breaths, her frame rocking but she silently fell against her daughters chest. Tears spilled over the woman's cheeks and she was crying at her daughter in French, seemingly begging for something, help or salvation.

Liquid spilled over Ariadne's thighs so suddenly it went past the glove and reached Mallory's naked wrist, hot and sticky. She assumed it was the membrane fluid but when she glanced down crimson covered her hands. _Please no_. It was like a scene out of a horror movie. The metallic stench of blood suddenly filled the air and where her cervix had spread to birth the baby, blood was slowly trickling out of the hole. Panicking, Mallory saw that Ariadne was loosing consciousness eyes glazing over worriedly.

"_Mama_!" Sofia was crying, slapping her mother's cheek. "_Mama_!"

"Ariadne! Ariadne wake up, look at me!" Mallory slapped the mattress in frustration; like hell was this woman going to die on her. Her eyes drooped shut but she forced them open, the glazed stare fixing on Mallory weakly.

When she spoke it was with great difficulty, her words coming out awkwardly. "Tell... tell Elliot...-"

Sofia was gasping quietly, murmuring over and over. "_S'il vous plaît ne vont pas, je t'aime, s'il vous plaît ne me quitte pas_." Sofia cupped her mother's cheek. "_Moi et papa besoin de vous, s'il vous plaît ne pas aller Mama, Je t'aime tellement.__"_

The sweet nothings poured out of the girls mouth freely, alongside her tears. Mallory found herself unable to watch the touching scene, but unable to turn away.

"Tell Elliot I love him." She turned her head slightly towards her daughter. "_Bébé Je t'aime, rester forte, je t'aime.__"_

Her body buckled and she screamed again, sweat dripping from her even though it was winter. The baby's head was visible through the blood and Ariadne was using the last of her strength, even falling silent to pant and push. Sofia held onto her mother tightly, willing her in their common language. And suddenly, the baby suddenly left the birth canal on a slide of blood and mucus and onto the mattress beneath her. Ariadne fell limp and the baby was silent for a moment, before bursting into a tears.

Mallory was in awe for a second, a maternal instinct that was buried deep inside of her coming alive at the sight of another human being delivered into the world. Pride followed that. Pride that she had helped deliver this baby safely with no complications to the tiny child's life. It was so small; if it wasn't for the fact the little one was three days late, she would peg it as premature. The umbilical cord still attached the baby to its mother.

Ariadne had reached up to cup her daughters cheek; the blood loss was substantial. There was nothing Mallory could do. She had to watch her die. There would be no time for the STRIKE team to arrive and get her somewhere safe. The cause of her death could be down to a lot of things. Haemorrhaging; a tear in the uterus or vagina could cause rampant blood loss. An infection. Pulmonary embolus. Anything. Someone came up behind her and they were holding out an extremely sharp knife.

"For the cord." The rough voice of the Soldier was behind her. Emotionally drained, she took it off him and bent over Ariadne's limp body to cut the cord.

She was in earshot to hear the words she traded with her daughter. "_Je veille sur vous. Toujours._"

And then Ariadne fell still and silent, as her soul vacated the earth.

The alarm and sirens and flashing lights took a back seat. Sofia began to cry properly, her tears mingling with the blood and sweat and membrane fluid. Mallory was too stunned to cry like Sofia was, tears welling in her eyes, her hand shaking as she raised to cut the cord. The Soldier took the knife off her and in a swift moment, swiped the connection from baby to mother. The little boy, from the obvious genitalia sign, wailed with an apparent sorrow as if it was aware of what had happened. Working on autopilot, Mallory wrapped the baby in one of the blankets and clutched the bundle close to her chest.

"Sofia."

The girl was rocking her mother's body back and forth, crying and babbling incoherently.

"Sofia." A little louder this time.

She looked up at the repetition of her name, green eyes ringed red. She asked something in French and the Soldier, suited in his armour and looking nonchalant, replied. Whatever he said caused the girl to stand shakily, and come over to meet her brother. Mallory surrendered the infant immediately, then pulled the shaking and crying girl into her arms. Sofia choked another sob and Mallory found her chest and tank top grow warm and damp with tears. She turned her head to the Soldier, her chin resting on the girls head as the tot cried for attention, for food, for its mother.

"Is he dead?" The Soldier stared at her. "Kohl? Is he dead?"

The Soldier glanced to the floor; in guilt? Then he looked up and shook his head. Laughing, a little stunned, Mallory tightened her arms around the baby and the girl.

"Thank you." She laughed breathlessly, tears falling down her face. "Thank you."

The Soldier nodded then suddenly started, walking towards her as if he had just remembered something. "The alarm is signalling the building's self destruction. Most of the inmates are gone along with the guards but I came back for you. We need to get free of the blast radius."

He bent to attach the handgun he'd left for their protection to his thigh; Mallory let go of the girl who was reluctant to leave her mother.

"Sofia." She grabbed the girls shoulders and tucked a strand of damp hair out of her eyes. "I know this is hard but we have to go. Do you understand?"

The Soldier stood at the gate of the cube, tapping his foot impatiently. The girl resisted when Mallory pulled on her arm, but Mallory persisted and eventually got the girl out of the cube. The Soldier unclasped a grenade from his pocket, a round green ball and he tore the ring out of it.

"Follow me."

He threw it in a long arc across the room then pulled Mallory and Sofia with the baby into a cell for protection. It bounced against the door but before it could roll down the causeway, it exploded. Although Mallory had squeezed her eyes shut she could still feel the heat of the explosion lick across her skin, the air suddenly kicking up with dust and concrete and charred metal. When the dust had settled, he opened the cage and let them out.

The Soldier ran ahead of them, and Mallory made Sofia get in front so she couldn't go back to see her mother. They emerged in the area where the dogs had been. Only now, the causeway protecting them had been destroyed so any dogs that weren't dead were free to attack. A few STRIKE members were guiding them into the forest to safer areas. It had been night when Ariadne's contractions had started but now the cold light of day was apparent in the sky, streaks of rain filled clouds crossing leisurely across the gray canvas. It was cold, and a light trickle of rain showered them as they exited the building. The forest was their goal.

Sofia cried out, diverting Mallory's attention from the sky to her as the nearest Rottweiler jumped for her. It sank its teeth in her leg and screaming out, she still kept a firm grip on her brother as it began to rag-doll the flesh. Blood spurted as the dog growled angrily and the flesh seemed to melt from Sofia's leg. Mallory ran forwards, screaming as Rottweilers pursued her, and the Soldier twisted his body to throw her a handgun. She missed as usual and ducked to grab it. Then another dog attacked her.

She threw her head back and screamed for mercy as its jaw clamped down on her leg. This was it. The end of her two-legged crusade through life. She'd never felt pain like it, the dogs teeth feeling like white hot jaws of hell across her legs. Thankfully the Soldier was by her in minutes, and had crushed his metal fist through the dogs head. It fell with a whimper then stilled. He didn't pull her to her feet, simply twisting again and firing his handgun at the dog who had Sofia's leg in a vice.

Sofia collapsed, landing on her back to support the baby. Mallory's leg was numb as her receptors attempted to cope with the overload of pain currently coursing through her veins, and the Soldier draped her arm across his shoulders and picked her up like she was his bloody bride. There was so much blood. It had stained the clean white sand.

Sofia was in shock, going into a seizure. Her right leg was ruined; below the knee was flesh and bone, nothing that resembled a leg. Ribbons of her flesh sat beside her and she was bleeding out, exposing torn bones and ripped tendons. The pain she was going through was unimaginable. The baby began to shake violently as her body rattled with the seizure, and her mouth began to foam; Mallory pushed from the Soldier's warm grip onto the ground, ignoring her own pain, and grabbed the baby off her.

Mallory suddenly heard a growl; she wanted to scream at the heavens above _not again please don't do it again_ when a gunshot fired out. It wasn't the Soldier as he was beside her. They both looked to the direction of the gunshot and saw a man in ruined STRIKE gear running towards them, brandishing an assault rifle.

"This way!" He screamed. The alarm was still wailing and Mallory's heart was pounding, as the baby cried directly into her ear. He reached them, a sweat and blood soaked man, and abandoning the rifle he scooped the violently shaking Sofia into his arms. She had gone limp.

The Soldier nodded at Mallory and helped her up. Before they could arrange a position where she could hold the baby and be supported from the Soldier, a shout from the prison alerted them to the final Russian guard who had no right arm and was limping towards them with a handgun.  
He fired twice without warning aiming directly at Mallory. She watched in slow motion as the bullets tumbled towards her in an arrow straight trajectory.

The first shot skimmed her. She could almost feel the whooshing of the bullet past her hair, whistling as it lodged itself into a tree. He fired again and for some reason, she knew it would hit. She half turned, protecting the baby.

A blur of black dived in front of her and when she turned around she realized the Soldier had lunged in front of her, attempting to block the bullet with his metal arm. Instead it had passed through the gap of his arm and hit his armour.

Gasping she watched as he staggered sideways winded by the bullet. He'd saved her life. He had refused to kill a man he had been tasked to kill and he'd saved her life. Her admiration of the Soldier had hit an all time high. The armour had absorbed the fatality factor but the force had winded STRIKE team member who had Sofia in his arms yelled something as the Russian man limped for them.

And then the hand of fate intervened so beautifully, as a dog attracted by the gunshot attacked him. _A hungry dog can't recognize a friend from a foe_ she mused, feeling eerily calm as the dog mauled and shook the man's body. Blood seemed to spurt. Mallory clutched the crying infant to her chest.

The Soldier grabbed her around the waist and they supported each other as they tried to make their way home. Mallory's leg was slippery with blood, and her arm was beginning to cramp as she had a firm grip on the tot with one arm, clutched tightly into her chest.

The STRIKE member lead the way into the woods, and as they reached the woods Mallory felt her senses tingling in a fear of anticipation. _It was going to explode... now_. A second after she had thought that, the prison rocked with a loud explosion and the STRIKE member yelled for everyone to get down.

The Soldier spun with Mallory still in his arm, flipping her so she was landing back first onto the floor with the baby safely lying upright on her chest. The only problem was that the Soldier was tumbling towards her; he quickly put out his hands and stopped his heavy armour from crushing the child by an inch. Her leg was beginning to seriously hurt. The Soldier pressed himself down on her slightly, his hands coming around her shoulders to protect her. Bits of debris flew over their heads and Mallory went deaf temporarily, hearing only the faint swoosh of the oncoming wasp helicopter as it kicked up the breeze and made the trees turn wild.

_The wasp_... she was going home. Tears of joy and sadness stung her eyes as dust was blown everywhere. She could smell burning, burning everywhere of charcoal, wood, metal, buildings, the faint smell of pork from the cooking bodies back at ground zero.

The Soldier pulled her up and Mallory staggered like a drunk. STRIKE team members, some supporting others and some looking as if they wanted to shoot themselves with the guns they held, were clearing the landing area and getting some leftover prisoners ready to transport back to the Bunker. The Soldier steadied her, then protected her defensively when someone approached them. A man in a green jumpsuit carrying a rifle, with blonde hair and green eyes like Sofia's. He placed the rifle calmly to the ground to show he meant no harm and held his hands out to the infant who had just lost his mother, had almost lost his sister and was wrapped in a filthy blanket and _screaming_.

"May I-" He spoke with a slight French accent. "-may I hold him?"

Mallory surrended the tot thankfully, and without question. She knew who he was. "Elliot Kohl." It was a statement, not a question. She said it with wonder, looking at the man as if he was a god.

The man cooed over the infant who seemed to sense the paternal connection and silenced. Despite the large gash which oozed blood on his forehead, he was relatively unhurt. "Ariadne?"

The hope in his eyes roused a sob from Mallory, such an explanatory noise that he nodded once. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly in his throat.

"Sofia?"

Mallory swung her gaze to the STRIKE member who was rousing Sofia from her seizure and giving her morphine, applying pressure to her leg. Elliot left her then, without a word. She watched as he gave his son to a passing medic, then tenderly cupped his daughter's cheek.

Her skin prickled; she turned and met the cool gaze of the Soldier. Only it wasn't so cool. Her smile faltered, her admiration of him turning to fear. His eyes had hardened, like he had when he explained that his mission was not to empathize but to serve. He stared at her as if she was the prey not an equal. It suddenly felt inconceivable to relate this man to the one whom she had watched take a bullet for her. She had shared a bed with this predator, and a sudden crawling feeling went up her spine.

It was too late. The Soldier had raised his gun and fired only once but that perfect aim had killed again. The STRIKE members silenced at the sound, the only noise in the air the echo of the gunfire, the distant crackle of fire and the sound of the wasp landing in the clearing zone.

And of course, the sound of Elliot Kohl's dead body hitting the floor. The Soldier turned to Mallory and with dead eyes, placed the gun back into his holster.

"My mission is to serve." He said blankly, his gaze fixing on Mallory.

And Mallory's opinion of the Soldier plummeted and she found herself hating him more than she had ever hated anyone.

Sofia had been reduced to an orphan, loosing both parents in horrific ways on the same day. Luck was not on her side. However as was unconscious from morphine, she looked peaceful. Mallory had a funny feeling the girl would wake and feel it all crashing down on her. Poor girl. She was treated on the wasp as they were airlifted back to the base. All signs were good and the onboard doctors and even Mallory's own critical eye had assessed her leg would not needed to be amputated. The baby was held by a grim faced STRIKE agent, the baby's father wrapped up on a body bag and waiting to be transported home for funeral.

Mallory had been cleaned up, her leg sterilized and wrapped in a bandage, and she was waiting for the wasp to stop rocking and reach solid land. She and Sofia had both been booked in to check if the dogs hadn't passed on rabies but it was merely a safeguard; Mallory had a feeling their wounds were clean as a whistle. Her needs were simple right. She wanted a bath, sleep and Rumlow. And for the Soldier to stay away from her.

He stood at the door, his back to her. He hadn't said a word to her since. His left eye was colouring a nasty purple bruise as Mallory had socked him one, using his own techniques against him to land an impressive right hand. Usually he wouldn't be caught of guard but he'd obviously calculated that due to her past, she wouldn't react violently to him. _Well he was wrong. _

She stood side by side with the Soldier as they lowered the steps onto the Bunker's tarmac and she felt her anger rising to even be breathing the same air as him.

"You promised you wouldn't shoot him." Mallory said, her voice cracking under the emotional strain. Venom poured out of her tone but the Soldier stood firm, swallowing hard.

"I lied." He was a blank slate and Mallory hated him.

Mallory watched with hatred as he strided across the helicopter pad towards the lift of the Bunker. Looking down, she watched her step as she limped down the steps and into the bright afternoon sun. It was heaven. She closed her eyes, trying to picture something pleasant instead of the horrific images that kept cropping up. She slid the jacket off her shoulders and allowed her skin to drink in the heavenly UV rays.

"Mallory!"

The shout echoed from across the landing pad. Mallory opened her eyes and saw a STRIKE member had broken away from the group and was running towards her. His dark hair flapped in the wind, and as he reached her she saw the dark Italian skin, hazel eyes and concerned features racing towards her. Consumed with a rush of love, the emotional strain broke down and she began to sob hysterically, ignoring the pain in her leg as she rushed forwards to throw her arms around him.

She didn't care that she looked and smelt like shit; he was here and nothing mattered. She clung to him tightly, wrapping herself around him like an anaconda.

"Mallory! Oh God, baby… I was so worried about you." Rumlow smelt like Rumlow, wood and musk and soap and just that clean smell she hadn't realized she had missed until it was right under her nose. "I missed you. I love you."

Every word pierced her with more love and she had never felt more at home than she did in his arms. _He loved her. He had said he loved her. _She loved him too. She had fallen for Rumlow hard. It was weird because she had never really thought about him when they were in the prison. But now that he was here she was suddenly so aware of how much a part of her had ached for his easy laughter and gentle smiles. His touch... she had fallen for Rumlow unexpectedly and wonderfully and he seemed like the only bright spot on her horizon at the moment.

She loved him too. And she didn't have to say it because he knew it as she clung to him tighter and sobbed harder and fell apart in his arms.

"Take me home." It was all she could say. "I wanna go home."

A/N: The chapter was meant to be posted a lot sooner and also supposed to be a lot shorter so I'm sorry and you're welcome. Response has been amazing as usual and I love you guys. Exam season is coming up soon and I'll try and write as much as possible but I'm not going to promise anything. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	10. To Serve

A/N This chapter is set a month after the events of last chapter. Idk i feel like this chapter is sort of filler bridging the gap between Mallory's experiences and the events of the movie. But alas, the movie events begin next chapter! Finally! Review, favourite, follow! Tell me what you think!

Oh and as I write this, exams start on Monday. So expect no or less frequent updates for the next two months or so. Super sorry for leaving you all on a slight cliffhanger, but hopefully you guys will understand school is more important and I need to focus. And of course be patient because this is where the fun starts!

"_Mama!" Sofia slapped her mother's cheek repeatedly and began to cry. "Mama!" _

"_Ariadne! Ariadne wake up, look at me!" Mallory slapped the mattress in frustration; like hell was this woman going to die on her. Her eyes drooped shut but she forced them open, the glazed stare fixing on Mallory weakly. _

_When she spoke it was with great difficulty, her words coming out awkwardly. "Tell... tell Elliot...-"_

"No please. Please no. Please don't make me watch again." Mallory knew she was asleep. The dream was too vivid to be real life; lucid dreaming she was sure it was called. Only she had no control. She was beginning to wake up but she knew her mind would torment her and make her watch again.

_Her body buckled and she screamed again, sweat dripping from her even though it was winter. The baby's head was visible through the blood and Ariadne was using the last of her strength, even falling silent to pant and push. Sofia held onto her mother tightly, willing her in their common language. And suddenly, the baby suddenly left the birth canal; on a slide of blood and mucus and onto the mattress beneath her. Ariadne fell limp and the baby seemed a little shocked. _

Mallory murmured, begging at herself. "Please. I'll do anything."

"_Je veille sur vous. Toujours.__" __And then Ariadne fell still and silent, as her soul vacated the earth. The alarm and sirens and flashing lights took a back seat. Sofia began to cry properly, her tears mingling with the blood and sweat and membrane fluid._

"Please... no. Not again."

_A funny feeling flipped her stomach but it was too late. The Soldier had raised his gun and fired only once but that dead on perfect aim reached its target. The STRIKE members silenced at the sound, the only noise in the air the echo of the gunfire, the distant crackle of fire and the sound of the wasp landing in the clearing zone._

_And of course, the sound of Elliot Kohl's dead body hitting the floor. The Soldier turned to Mallory and with dead eyes, placed the gun back into his holster. _

"_My mission is to serve." He said blankly, his gaze fixing on Mallory._

His cold eyes burned her and Mallory suddenly saw flame everywhere. As she opened her eyes, the bright flame giving way to a dark bedroom. Cold sweat covered her body, clinging an oversized track t-shirt that belonged to her boyfriend to her naked body. Apart from the cold sweat a warm weight covered most of her left body. Feeling as if the flame was on her again, she tore herself out of the bed so quickly that in her slipstream she woke the weight beside her.

"... Mallory?" The voice moaned behind her as she raced into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door shut. Her hand groped for the light in the dark, and when she switched it on she yelped at her reflection in the big mirror that occupied the wall.

Her brown eyes were blood shot and ringed with sleep and tears; underneath bags purple as if somebody had blacked her eye gave her cause for concern. Hair wild, as she'd probably been tossing and turning again. Her t-shirt was red but soaked darker with sweat, the outline of her breasts and stomach and hips visible as it clung to her. Her thighs were crisscrossed with veins and pale. She gripped the cool sink and breathed deeply, as the world began to spin around her as she'd gotten up too quickly and she couldn't breathe. _In, out, in, out._

"Mallory!" Rumlow rapped twice on the door. "Mal baby, let me in we can talk about it!"

She waited until she felt her heart beat return to a comfortable pace, then she ran the tap and splashed her face. "I'm fine." But her voice wobbled.

"Baby I know you are not fine." His tone was tinged with sarcasm. "Look, just come out when you feel better, I'll be here."

She nodded at herself in the mirror. "Okay."

Flashes of the dream crossed through her memory but somehow as the beginnings of the sunrise filtered through the tiny window in the bathroom, Mallory felt better. She could control the dreams in the daytime; it was just nighttime when her subconscious tortured her. Her hair was slick with sweat so she tied it back in a high bun. Another sensation filled her bladder but once she had peed and tidied herself up, the sound of the toilet flushing and the tap running and then she unlocked the door.

"Could you hand me my Ramones t-shirt? It's on the floor somewhere."

Rumlow returned to the door holding her grey article of clothing, himself wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He watched with concern as she slipped the track shirt off her head and pulled the Ramones on.

She smiled at him reassuringly as she switched the light off and walked back towards the bedroom. He caught her hand before she climbed back into the bed and sighed, pulling her to him.

"Are you sure you don't wanna talk about it?" He asked, as she wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed into his chest.

"Yeah. It'll just make it worse." She glanced up at his chin and cupped his cheek, deciding he needed to shave as his hair prickled her hand. "Let's get back to bed, hm?"

Rumlow smiled at her and bent to kiss her. But as she tried to focus on the pressure of Rumlow's mouth, she saw only the cool glare of the Soldier as he waited for her to fall back to sleep.

* * *

As the icy months of late February turned to the cooler months of March, Mallory sat in the waking hours in the tank-like office of her boss and clasped her hands together. She was dressed comfortably in a pair of dark skinny jeans – which had became a lot tighter then she remembered – and sky blue blouse which she hoped was semi-professional. It had been a nice day outside so she'd worn ballet flats although now, as her heels began to sting with pain of cheap soles against the rocky sand above the Bunker, she was beginning to regret it.

Pierce himself sat opposite her in a black pinstripe suit, blue shirt and dark blue tie reading from a file marked CLASSIFIED. He pushed his glasses up his nose and sniffed before settling the file on the table and smiling at Mallory for what seemed like the first genuine smile she had been rewarded in her time with him.

"How was your leave of absence, Dr. Smith?" His tone was friendly, accessible. She didn't remember him being so nice when she was here every day.

"Greatly appreciated. Seriously, it was so generous. Two weeks would've been enough, sir."

He raised his hand and smiled, basking in the glow of her sincerity. "Please, Dr. Smith. You are a valued member of our team here and I do realize that asking you to go in the field was a lot." _And that's putting it lightly._ "And anyway it's not like you haven't not been in here at all over the past four weeks. I'd always intended to give you time off anyway whether you were injured or not. How is the leg by the way?" The statement conjured up the image of a new addition to Mallory's scar collection – alongside the scar she received when she'd broken her wrist after falling off the swing set – the bite marks alongside her calf. They were ugly puckered scars, teeth marks that spanned across the expanse of her calf, still in that stage of bright redness as if she had just acquired him but she was hoping they'd go away some time soon. The doctors had cleared her of rabies and any infection but still they had hurt when they were healing.

"I won't be wearing shorts any time soon but it healed well, thank you. The doctors you helped fund for me were very good."

Pierce smiled and lent back, his office chair creaking beneath him. "Are you ready to come back or do you need more time?"

Mallory's smile vanished and her good mood diminished. It was a question she had been toying with since she'd vacated Pierce's office last. Was she ready to come back and face the Soldier? To watch and take care of him even though he had displayed a horrific need to execute a man whose wife had just died, and had almost lost his children? Even though Mallory had stated that he didn't have to do what Pierce wanted him to do? Multiple conversations told her what Rumlow thought; he said although the Soldier had well and truly destroyed any chance of a working relationship, she should still treat him with a professional partnership. Was she ready to come back? Physically she was fine but mentally? She wasn't sure.

She had asked and asked to see Sofia and the baby but they had denied her; they refused to explain until one of the techs lost their rag with her and exploded, yelling about why on earth the poor traumatized girl want to see the woman who had watched her mother die and didn't do anything about it, and was with the man who had shot her father? Mallory had stopped asking after that.

"I'm ready sir." She said instead, forcing a smile back onto her face. "Did the Soldier come back from his mission?"

Her leave of absence wasn't really a leave at all; she was still required to come to the office and wake the Soldier up if Pierce wanted him on a mission. And he'd had. On the third week of her blissful holiday, Pierce called her at nine o'clock and asked her to come in. The mission was a simple assassination of an important Chinese engineer. Mallory had ignored every time the Soldier's eyes dripped towards her and had left as promptly as she could manage. Even being in the same room as in was difficult.

"Yes he did. No injuries. David put him back to sleep for you; I didn't see the point in calling you in to do something that any of us could've done."

"Thank you, sir. Do you need him awake?" She made a motion to ask to get up and Pierce gestured that she was allowed.

"I don't need him for a mission but didn't you say you'd read that he needed a rest from the cryo-freeze?" His tone suggested that he did indeed want her to wake him up. Swallowing tightly, Mallory forced her smile wider and cursed her younger self.

"Yeah I did. I'll go wake him, sir."

Pierce nodded and Mallory left the room, her arms clasping her shoulders as she trotted down the stairs and walked across the cool floors towards the lab. She passed soldiers she recognized, and said hello as they passed and waved. David was hurrying along the lab corridor, but paused long enough to run a hand through his dark hair and yell at her something about how those jeans were too tight. Laughing, Mallory shook her head.

"Blame Rumlow. He's terrible at cooking so we ate takeaway most of the time."

"Oh yeah always blame it on Rumlow." He went to leave again but stopped, pointing at her and narrowing his eyes. "Hey you mentioned a while ago you were looking in on the mind wiping tech didn't you?"

Mallory nodded uncertainly, unsure of where this was going.

"I knew it was you. Come down and see me later. I've got a couple of files you might be interested in reading."

Mallory smiled at him but her enthusiasm for the topic had been diminished in her now hatred of the Soldier and her time away. "I'll swing by later when I've checked him over."

She walked onwards until she came face to face with the cold metal doors. Taking a deep breath, she spoke.

"Dr. Mallory Smith." She said, after a moment, her eyes fixed on the red light which would soon flick to green when it recognized her.

"Voice recognized." She lent in close where the hidden panel was and felt the slight change in heat and air as the retina scan surveyed her eye. "Retinal scan complete. Hello, Dr Smith."

The red light flicked over to green. The guard at the door sniffed as his friend looked on.

"What?" Mallory challenged, her tone half serious and half amusing.

"You'd think they'd know us by now." The guard remarked, gesturing towards the light as if the source of the A.I voice was from there. Mallory laughed.

"Yeah you'd think. How was your weekend?"

The guard made a face. "The worst. Pierce called us in – gotta mission for us. Pirates have taken a S.H.I.E.L.D ship." He brightened up visibly as he added. "On the bright side it's with Steve Rogers."

_Was that supposed to mean something? _"Steve Rogers?" Her mind searched the mental database of all the people she had heard, met or seen and the name suddenly clicked as a shield bearing the colours of the US flag cropped up in her mind. _Oh._ "You mean Captain America?"

"The one, the only."

"Wow." Mallory nodded, in awe of the legend of Steve Rogers. Every American worth their weight knew the story of Steve Rogers; a Brooklyn born boy who was sickly and riddled with infection. Denied from the army many times, Steve's tenacity with the recruiting office led him to make an acquaintance with a German genius who had developed the Super Soldier Serum that could create an army of mentally and physically advanced soldiers who could turn the tide of the war within a day. Steve was chosen for the programme and was turned into the first (and ultimately the last) Super Soldier who fought in the name of freedom. On a routine mission to dispel a top secret German science division, Roger sacrificed himself to save an entire city by driving the plane filled with explosives into a frozen landscape.

However his body was preserved. And seventy years later, he was unfrozen by S.H.I.E.L.D scientists and thrust into another war with a group of misfits fighting against an angry Asgardian trickster and his army of Chitauri. Mallory had been in Washington when it had all gone down in New York but she remembered the frantic phone call from her mother who had forgotten she wasn't actually anywhere near the alien invasion. It was like her grandmother's description of the JFK assassination, or the terrible sadness that befell the country when the images of 9/11 broadcast around the world; everybody remembered where they had been when the Chitauri invasion had happened and we were confirmed to not be alone in the universe. Mallory had been doing a shift, in her first year at the hospital and she'd been in the staff room brewing herself a coffee. She remembered how her feet had ached, and how she'd been glad to have a moment to herself. She remembered when her mother had called and she had tutted, sighing as she picked up the phone to answer. As Mallory walked into the lab, she could hear her mother's frantic voice like she had been on that day, asking her over and over if she was in New York and if she could get to safety. After calming her down, her mother had told her to switch on the news. Still on the phone, Mallory had taken her coffee towards the TV in the patients rec room and switched the news on. As scenes of the aliens flew around the screen and the newscaster had assured that this was not a trick, Mallory remembered her coffee tumbling to the floor and her mouth opening wide with shock before calling for her then boyfriend Liam to come and watch.

Even before he crashed his ship, the Cap's story was tinged with sadness. His parents had died young, leaving him an orphan when he needed his parents most. And his best friend, James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes, had been killed on a mission and he blamed himself. Mallory remembered her father telling her the story of James's fall from the train where the German science division had been transporting their leader.

It seemed unfair, Mallory mused, that a man who had been born in the time of war and woken when it was won, was asked to fight another war.

She focused back on the guard. "I'm jealous. Have fun with the Cap and remember to give him my phone number!"

"Hey! You're dating Rumlow!"

Mallory made a playful noise of scorn. "I can still window shop!" She yelled, as the metal door closed behind her and she walked into the lab.

The Soldier lay asleep in his glass coffin, a vision of a slightly more murderous and less feminine Snow White. Mallory activated the waking protocol and watched tensely as the green glow quickly enveloped the coffin followed by a hiss of air and the doors swung outwards. Her stomach was knotted; she was nervous. So nervous. Would he have even noticed she was gone? Would he even notice she was still utterly devastatedand _completely pissed off _about his actions? Probably not. A surge of hatred well in her stomach mixing with the anxiety and she turned as she saw an arm reach out to drag himself upwards.

She busied herself, reading over her notes obsessively and crossing things out when she heard him moving behind her. She turned and watched as the Soldier got out of the coffin with ease, his cool eyes assessing her calmly as if she had been there the entire time when he was awake. He rubbed a hand through his hair and scratched at his eye.

"Do you remember your name?" She asked before he got a chance to sit on the examination table.

He spoke after a moment, and seemed to sigh a little as if it saddened him. "No."

"Do you remember your duty?"

He nodded. "Yes. To serve."

They were almost identical to the words she had said to him in their first meeting, but everything had changed. He limped, shirtless with the black sweatpants, over to the examination table and hauled himself up. Mallory walked over and used a tentative touch to assess his limbs, noting bruises and cat scratches from his latest mission. She couldn't help but notice a fresh and deeper cut above his eye, as if someone had gotten a lucky shot. _He'd probably killed them straight after_. The thought made her stomach turn. She dabbed at it with anti-septic and placed a Band Aid across his forehead to cover the scratch. As she shone a light in his eyes to check pupil response, he seemed to be staring right at her, his eyes still as stone. Mallory tried desperately to ignore him but it was impossible to. His eyes were fixed on hers and she was sure even if she left the room they'd still be watching. It was unnerving. A cooler stare than the one he had given her when she'd realized he was about to shoot Kohl but deadly all the same.

Mallory lowered the light, the question on the tip of her tongue. The Soldier waited as if he had sensed she was going to ask in and when he nodded once, she couldn't help but come out with it.

"Did you lie to me the entire time?" She swallowed hard, afraid of the answer. "Were you always going to kill him?"

The Soldier shook his head. "No. There was a moment... a few moments where I considered allowing him to live."

"But you changed your mind."

He nodded. Mallory could say what she liked about the Soldier but his one admirable quality was he never flinched from the truth. She sighed and folded her arms, feeling as if her hatred had sank her sanity deep in the pit of her stomach. Not thinking about him for a month hadn't worked; he plagued her in waking hours now, along with sleep. She found herself thinking of the Soldier and his rage at the most inappropriate moments; coffee with David turned into a lingering thought process of the Soldier shooting at the Russian guards, dinner with her parents quickly turned to her wandering in the streams of her mind thinking whether or not the Soldier had lied to her the entire time. Even as Rumlow made love to her, she found herself staring at the ceiling in the dark and seeing how his arm had glinted in the moonlight, it's weight against her hip when it fallen and how innocent the Soldier looked as he slept. She couldn't help but compare it to his ramrod tenacity to follow orders in the cold hours of daylight. How could a man be so... so gentle and soft but so hard and brutal at the same time? Mallory was obsessed with his thought process and not in a good way.

"Pierce needed him gone."

"Pierce didn't understand why he was blackmailing him." She retorted.

"Did you tell him?" He wasn't angry; just a quiet tone of questioning. Mallory faltered, falling short of her own mistake. Her silence was worthy of her denial and the Soldier's chin tilted back, a gesture of nobility as if he suddenly believe they were now on the same wavelength.

"No." Her denial was for herself. "I didn't think Pierce needed to know. Kohl's dead, and even Pierce's power can't bring him back."

"Yet you're still angry with me."

Mallory's huffed in outrage. "I'm mad at you because... because you could've saved Kohl! You could've stopped your need to prove to Pierce that you're a good little soldier or whatever the hell you're trying to prove to him! You could've... saved Sofia-" Her voice cracked horribly. -and that little boy from being totally alone in this-"

He calmly interrupted her. "It sounds you're more angry with yourself, not me."

The realization washed over her. She could've saved Kohl by warning him about the Soldier. She could've saved Ariadne. She could've saved Sofia and that poor baby boy from being orphaned. Tears stung her eyes.

"I-" She was at loss for words. The Soldier shifted uncomfortably as Mallory found herself beginning to cry, and he jumped down from the examination table. He reached her in two quick paces and although he didn't touch her, softness suddenly overcome his normally steel features.

"Ariadne died of haemorrhaging; there would've been more risk if you moved her and the helicopter wouldn't of reached her in time. The pregnancy and her body was to fault, not you. Sofia had less of a chance then we did from escaping that pit of dogs alive; she was lucky to get away as she did. You almost lost your leg yourself when you tried to reach her, if I remember correctly." His eyes hardened. "Kohl's death is on me. Not you. Don't blame yourself."

"I can't help it. I'm a doctor." She found herself shrugging. "I'm supposed to save people, to help. Not watch them die." Images of Ariadne falling against her daughter's chest as the life drained out of her

"Sometimes all you can do is watch them die."

* * *

Mallory's mother made a bolognese with pasta and pineapple upside down cake for afters. As Mallory spooned the tubes of pasta coated in the red sauce into her mouth, she watched with embarrassment as her mother quizzed Rumlow over the top of her bouquet of white roses that adorned the table. It was the same type of Q&amp;A her other serious boyfriend, Liam, had gone through and although it brought back bittersweet memories, Mallory found herself laughing when Rumlow exchanged a _help me_ look with her. The man was the leader of a black ops STRIKE team yet he couldn't handle the quick fire questions of a concerned parent without crumbling.

Her father knew Rumlow but they acted as if they had met; she only knew this because she had seen them talking when her father had visited the Bunker and dropped off some lilies for Mallory as a well done for taking part in the field mission.

Mallory swallowed her last tube of pasta as Rumlow began to sweat nervously and decided to intervene. "Dad, will you please tell Mom to lay off my boyfriend?"

Her father cut into a meatball and chewed it before answering. "Why do I have to tell her? She won't listen to me."

Mallory laughed. "She won't listen to me either."

Her mother's wine glass teetered dangerously to spilling across the carpeted floors as she turned to Mallory. "Sweetheart, I'm just questioning him. He doesn't mind, do you Brock?"

Rumlow pulled at the collar of his black shirt and forced a smile. "Not at all, Mrs Smith."

"Oh please." Her mother waved her free hand in the air. "Call me Julia."

Rumlow met her eyes and Mallory became alarmed when her mother reached for the wine bottle again. She noticed her father's eyes narrow the tiniest amount and he wiped his mouth with the napkin, placing it down on the table.

"Are you finished Rum- Brock?"

Rumlow visibly tensed at her father's voice and swung his head towards him. "Yeah." Mallory found her gaze slipping towards Rumlow's plate; still half full of pasta and the sauce. Mallory frowned.

"Could you help me clear away and bring in the next course?" Her father's voice was unnaturally tight for such a simple request. Rumlow nodded and began clearing up the plates, following her father into the kitchen. Mallory watched them go, noticing how they seemed ill at ease with each other. To be honest, they'd been slightly uncomfortable all night but Mallory had put it down to his prior knowledge of Rumlow's job and the involvement he had with his daughter. It was probably just her dad being overprotective. She hoped her father would go easy on him when they whispered in the kitchen. Mallory shook her head and looked to her mother.

"So... what do you think?"

Her mother laughed. "He's cute! I'm impressed."

Mallory's faltered slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Her mother's mouth fell open and she took Mallory's hand. "Oh sweetie! I didn't mean it harshly. It's just... I'm impressed with how fast you've fallen for him. I thought after Liam-"

"Mom please." Her voice was low and rough. She could see where this road was heading. Mallory's throat suddenly tightened, and she reached for her own glass of blood red wine. She reached for it too fast and the wine knocked, splashing all over her hand. Although it was darker then blood, and lighter in consistency, she suddenly felt her body tricking her mind into believing it was real blood. As it dripped down her elbow, she found herself thinking of how watery Ariadne's blood had been when it had dripped down her arm. The colour... her mind connected the dots and her heartbeat began to rise._ No please. Not here, not now._

"No I know you don't like to talk about what happened but-"

"Mom don't. Not now." Her voice was edging on panicky and she shifted in her chair, wiping the wine on her hand across the tops of her black jeans hoping it would clear it.

"You need to talk about it sometime." Her mother squeezed her free hand but Mallory wrenched it away. "Sweetie, you never talked about it after you told me. Danni and Liam... it was an awful thing he did to you."

The images of Ariadne's difficult birth were replaced by the moment a friend of a friend had mentioned seeing Liam and Danni kissing together in a restaurant. She couldn't remember the girls name but she could remember the feeling of disbelief. She could even remember her exact thought; _Liam wouldn't do that, Liam loves me._ How wrong she had been.

She had caught them in the act. After spying on him for weeks determining whether or not what the girl had said was true, she tracked Danni to her apartment and walked in on them. They weren't in the middle of the act but they had clearly just done it when she'd walked in; Liam was brushing his teeth and sliding boxers up his frame, Danni was on the bed talking to him. She would always remember the sight of Danni's bottle blonde straw-like hair spayed out on her bed, as she traced a finger across her flat stomach and invited Liam to take her panties off and fuck her again. She had never believed that she would experience anything as heartbreaking, as horrific as that moment but she'd had. Watching Ariadne die in her daughters arms was a lot more traumatizing then witnessing her long term boyfriend and her best friend have a long term affair. Although it had taken a back seat in her top ten of horrible moments in her life, Mallory still hated to think about it.

There was a smear of the pasta sauce on the table. It was thick and filled with red peppers, vaguely resembling the look of how the placenta had mingled with the fluid and tears and blood. Mallory could hear her heartbeat thumping in her ears, drowning out of the noise of her mother reminding her of the details of Liam's betrayal. But all she could see was Ariadne. Close to tears, Mallory threw back her chair and raced through the kitchen, slipping past Rumlow and her father in a heated conversation, into the backyard.

The fresh air hit her and she staggered, breathing in and out as her heart began to race uncomfortably. She groped the air for a support as she felt herself drowning in the weight of her guilt. The Soldier's words rang in her mind like a bell.

His face came to the forefront of her mind. _"The pregnancy and her body was to fault, not you." "Don't blame yourself." How can I not? _

"Mal!" Her father had her in his arms first, his concerned face looming in her vision but not distracting her. "What's wrong?"

She struggled out his cage-like grip, not wanting to feel as if she was trapped. "I-I... I just need s-space." The words were difficult to pant. Her father backed away immediately, and pulled Rumlow back when he went to grab her.

She still felt like she was drowning, pressure all around her. She couldn't breathe or think properly. All she saw was Ariadne and Sofia and the baby. Kohl's body thudding to the floor, how the Soldier's jaw had felt when she had socked him. The Soldier... she saw his arm flash past as he ran in her minds eye. His athleticism, how he had thrown himself in front of the bullet for her. Their relationship was still strained but she couldn't deny she cared for the man. And a part of her wanted to believe that he cared for her as well. Why else would he try to make her feel better by easing her guilt? _Focus. _She focused on his fluidity in battle, his movements, his dancers grace. Tracing his steps when she'd watched him train with those STRIKE agents, Mallory felt the pressure lift and herself being able to breath again.

The world returned to colour as she sucked in air gratefully. The pressure was gone and she was free to think. _Think of the Soldier_. She was afraid to let his image go in fear of being submerged again.

Someone gripped her shoulders. _Her Soldier?_ "Mal?" Rumlow's eyes pierced her and she returned to him.

"You alright?" Rumlow's grip left her.

Mallory managed a nod and felt herself scooped into her father's arms for a hug. "You almost gave me a heart attack." He smelt of garlic and aftershave; she threw her arms around his portly waist.

"I almost gave myself one." They both managed a weak laugh. "I'm sorry. I dunno what came over me." A lie. She knew exactly what had come over her but she had fought it off with the Soldier's help.

"The cake is ready!" Her drunk mother was obvious to the drama that had came over them. Rumlow and her dad had shared a look and with her father's arm draped around her shoulders, all three trudged back into the kitchen dutifully to receive their cake.

* * *

"Today was weird, huh?" Rumlow sighed, after getting into bed with Mallory after their long day.

He hadn't officially moved in yet but he spent most nights at Mallory's and most of his clothes were here. After many nights spent sleeping at hers, she had requested to see and sleep at his house for equality. Rumlow had agreed warning her off the awful structure of the place A bare skeleton of a home in a shitty area, with few possessions and even fewer pieces of furniture, Mallory had understood why Rumlow would rather stay in Mallory's small but cosy apartment instead of a place which had a landlord who spoke Polish randomly sliced with words of English, owned a ferocious German Shepard that barked all hours of the night and fucked his wife who screamed loudly through the thin walls. With zero sleep at three am, Mallory had grabbed Rumlow and drove him back to hers where they'd gotten back into bed and for fun, Mallory had imitated the screaming Polish woman until the fakeness of her moans turned into real ones due to Rumlow's skill in the sack.

"Yeah." Mallory wore shorts and a t-shirt with a cartoon picture of three wolves howling and the words HOUNDS OF JUSTICE written in bold print. "It was."

"There's no shame in going to a therapist. I do." She hadn't known that and raised her eyebrows. "Did you really think I didn't? All STRIKE members do. Its practically in the job description."

She groaned and fell backwards on the bed, rubbing her stomach and sighing. "I know there's no shame. I just... I feel like it's an illness. It'll pass."

"I think you should." His disapproving voice came from above her and Mallory sat up, taking his hands.

Mallory laughed. "You sound like my dad."

"God I hope not." Rumlow sat down beside her and knocked her with his shoulders as if they were kids. "Your Mom is hilarious."

Mallory was glad the lights were off as she went red. "Oh God I am so sorry she was so embarrassing!"

"It was cute. She just concerned."

Mallory found herself thinking of Liam when she spoke, sounding darker then she'd intended. "She's interfering."

Rumlow kissed her exposed shoulder and laughed. "Hey, Miss Grumpy, don't be such a bore. I got something to tell you."

Mallory's stomach tensed and she turned to face him in the dark, masking her concern with humour. "You're not dumping me are you? Because I am not giving that blue sweatshirt back it's too comfy."

He knocked her again. "Don't be dumb. I'd never dump you." His tone grew serious. "I have to go away for a few days. Mission. Pirates have taken a S.H.I.E.L.D ship captive."

Mallory's eyes widened. "Whoa. Heavy stuff?"

"Yeah. Jobs with Romanov-" She grinned at the mention of her only living idol – the rest of her idols had died long ago. "- and Rogers."

"Rogers?" She remembered the guard who had told her of the same mission. "Oh yeah guy on the door was telling me about it. I don't want you to leave."

She pushed him on the bed and straddled him, silencing his throaty laughter with a kiss. His thumb dragged up the bottom of her t-shirt and he tugged at it insistently, like a child tugging at it's mother's sleeve.

"I'm gonna miss you Rumlow." She said breathlessly between kisses.

"I don't believe you." He retorted, laughing as he peeled her t-shirt off and ran his hand up her exposed stomach, hands brushing against her breasts. "In fact, I think you're gonna have to prove it."

He flipped her on her back and in seconds her shorts were off, flung across the room. Mallory laughed and pulled him for another kiss. The Soldier flashed in her minds eye and she knew she was going to be okay.


	11. Itsy Bitsy Spider

Rumlow pulled up on the curb in the black SUV as his phone buzzed and yanked it out of his pocket. _Ever the law abiding _citizen. Mallory waited patiently, her feet resting comfortably on the dashboard in front of her, her black Converse slightly muddy from where Rumlow had attempted to push her reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln memorial. He frowned at his phone.

"What?" Mallory asked, dropping her feet from the dashboard with a thud. "What's wrong?" She had a horrible feeling that they were finally calling him to go on the mission he'd been telling her about. Of course he'd never actually revealed any details as even between the two HYDRA agents, it was still totally classified. Most of the details of Mallory's first and only venture into the field had still be kept from Rumlow much to his chagrin.

He pressed his lips together, looking apologetic. "Work. Fury's ready to send the STRIKE team in." He shrugged and sighed, putting the phone back into his pocket.

Mallory snuggled her head into the back rest of the car seat and smiled at him. "And here I thought we'd be spending the day together."

They'd had a lovely day so far. They'd driven around D.C and saw the sights, and walked along the streets to find cheaper coffee shops than the thousands of Starbucks that dominated the streets and demanded four dollars for a flavored latte. Rumlow had laughed at her jokes and held her hand and they'd found a bench to drink their coffee and people watch, making up stories about the civilians that trudged along the streets wrapped up in their own worlds. They'd been planning to go to dinner later on, or maybe get a takeout and walk home together and share a bottle of wine. Although she had knew of this impending call, she didn't realize it was going to be so soon and she was half serious when she spoke.

He seemed to know of her frustration. "Don't be like that Mal."

"I'm kidding!" _Maybe._ She rested her arm gently on his forearm and smiled at him as the sunlight streamed through the windows. "It's just what I have to go through being a HYDRA girl – you never appropriate me, you're never home..."  
Rumlow laughed then restarted the engine. "I better get to the Bunker. You wanna lift home?"

Mallory looked out the window beside her; despite the few candyfloss like clouds that were slinking lazily over the skyline, the day was perfect. The sun was high in the sky casting rays of warmth over the runners that panted across the pavement and the families who held hands and licked at cones of ice creams and chatted amicably. She had been feeling so cooped up lately, with the stress of getting Pierce to allow her to see Sofia or the baby and limiting her sudden strikes of panic attacks that the invitation of fresh air and warm sunshine was too much to deny.

"No. I'll walk. It's a nice day."

"You sure?" Rumlow, despite the frown creasing his forehead and his leg shaking anxiously on the break indicating he wanted to get to work right now, was still concerned about her from her episode at the family dinner.

"Yeah." She lent over and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Don't get killed. You got nothing in your home I can legally take." She was half serious here as well. The slight tension had been eased and he threw his head back and laughed openly. She was glad to see the frown in his face was gone.

"Oh ye of little faith!" He said sarcastically as he began to get ready to leave the curb.

Mallory laughed with him getting out of the car, but leaning over the open window before he started winding it up. "I love you." She said, grinning. It was a still a thrill to say it.

"I love you too."

Mallory stepped back and watched as the car drove away, waving as he went by. Although she was sad about missing her day with him, she was also a tiny bit glad. It felt recently that Mallory had spent so much time with people; time in the lab with the surly Soldier attempting to not hate him, time with Pierce and trying not to notice how much he creeped her out, so much time with Rumlow and her parents. They meant well but they sometimes felt interfering, two dominate figures with contrasting opinions over every aspect of her life. Sometimes she just liked to be alone, to collect her thoughts, and reevaluate her stance and make decisions. Or sometimes she just liked to spend time allowing her mind to wander on trivial matters and chase trains of thought. Fighting the impulse to put her headphones in, to listen to Bowie over the sounds of nature– birds tweeting in the trees, the comforting noise of families laughing and talking in the distance, runners pounding the pavement hard and whistling past her – Mallory began her slow walk home in the sun.

It was getting a little colder and Mallory zipped her hoodie up halfway between her breasts; the zip tightened as it tried to climb higher. She had definitely been binge eating on her month off from the lab and gained a couple of pounds. Jeans that had fit comfortably now felt like a tiny bit tighter, her normal 32C bra was beginning to feel more like a D cup. Rumlow didn't have any complaints and neither did Mallory but she always felt more comfortable if her jeans didn't feel like they were slicing her in half when she sat down. All she'd eaten in her time away from the Bunker was takeout. Since her stature was small, weight was more noticeable on her, a one pound weight gain looking for like four. She resolved to maybe take up running again – the thought made her want to turn to the nearest pizza joint – or start eating less fat and more salads. _Ugh. Maybe I should just turn vegetarian. _A man with blonde hair and an impressively massive physique ran past her a blur of gray t-shirt and black bottoms, running with speed and athleticism which made her jealous. He was focused hard on beating the track but his mouth curled in a smile to her; she noticed he wasn't sweating a bit.

Turning the corner, Mallory noticed how the pavement was practically empty of people, apart from another single runner who was panting his way towards her following the same path as the blonde man. An attractive chap, the man looked her up and down once then smiled in a genuinely nice way despite the sweat that clung the gray t-shirt to his body. Mallory smiled back in a way of encouragement, as the man looked as if he wished to die. He passed her quickly, blowing her hair around her face. Mallory ran her hands through it and inspected the thick hairs, noticing knots and splits, deciding to book herself in for a trim as it was beginning to look dead. She'd meant to do it in her weeks off but had overlooked it.

The thrum of a loud engine made her look up. A sleek black car pulled up and parked illegally on the sidewalk. The woman inside, a pouty but beautiful redhead, didn't seem too bothered as she got out of the car, shutting the door with a slam and approached the nearest park bench, choosing to stand in front of it instead of sitting on it. She was dressed in tight black jeans and black calf length boots, her leather jacket glinting in the sunlight. How she was wearing such an ensemble in the heat was incredible. As she pulled out her phone to answer a phone call, a ticket inspector from across the road saw his chance and slunk over. Mallory swallowed any feeling of nervousness – the woman looked unapproachable and intimidating as she seemed to stand with authority and assurance, her huge lips pursed – and went up to her, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

The woman whirled, her iron straight red hair flying with her. Her honey-colored lip glossed mouth parted in a 'O' shape, and a vague annoyance crossed her features. Mallory felt her palms sweat slightly and she found the woman vaguely familiar, like trying to identify an actor in a movie who you were sure you'd seen before in something else. Instead of asking the caller to wait as she dealt with it, her commanding and unnaturally deep voice barked to the receiver.

"I'll call you back, Clint." The phone found its way to her back pocket. "Yes?" Despite the annoyance on her face, her tone was less harsh then her hardened green eyes suggested.

Mallory found confidence with this and pointed to her car. "Sorry to bother you but there's a ticket inspector over there on your car." The woman followed her gaze and Mallory noticed a change within her. The look of annoyance vanished, replaced with shock and gratitude.

"Oh, fuck." She mused, as she raced to stop him. Mallory watched with interest as the woman pleaded with him, choosing to sit on the park bench the woman had been standing near. A pigeon swooping down to peck at bread crumbs caught her interest and as she watched it swallow and choke on the crumbs, the woman's face was beginning to annoy her. Why had been so familiar? Had she seen her before? Mallory racked her brains hard so by the time she tuned back into the conversation and decided to forget about it the man was crossing the road looking pleased with himself clutching a piece of paper and the woman was coming back towards her to probably recall the man who was on the phone. The car was still parked illegally on the road funnily enough.

"Hey I didn't say thanks." Mallory looked up and the woman stood above, smiling slightly at her.

"It's no problem. I'd hate to see someone get a ticket just for making a call." And then as the woman's features composed, the familiarity clicked. Scenes of the Chitauri invasion being broadcast on the news flicked in her mind, alongside the image of a female S.H.I.E.L.D agent with curly red hair kicking alien butt. How had she not recognized _Natasha friggin' Romanoff? _It was the straight hair definitely. The woman was practically the only alive idol she had left.

"Do you mind?" She pointed to the space on the bench beside her.

Mallory shook her head dumbly and Natasha smiled, sliding into the seat next to her and taking her phone out again to text someone. Mallory sat restlessly, wondering whether or not to broach the subject when Natasha spoke.

"I'll tell you, giving someone your number is a sure fire way to get you off a ticket."

Mallory smiled, forgetting her question. "Surely that compromises your feminist principles?"

Natasha shrugged. "Not really. The system is biased against me, so when it works in my favour I will exploit the crap out of it."

"Hm. I'll have to remember that next time I get a ticket."

"It works with speeding as well."

Mallory smiled then finally burst out. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to be… um… Natasha Romanoff would you?"

Natasha's smile became a tad fixed and she seemed to zone out, concentrating on her phone. "Uh yeah. I might be." Mallory suddenly felt awful.

"God, I shouldn't of said anything. Sorry. It's just… all male team… kinda rocks when you meet the only girl." Deciding to try and salvage the situation, Mallory added. "I wouldn't of mentioned it at all it's just we're sorta colleagues."

She tuned in suddenly and turned to look at her. "We are?" The surprise in her tone was definitely insulting but as Mallory wasn't exactly S.H.I.E.L.D type material in her flowery camisole and pink hoodie, she didn't exactly blame her.

"Yeah. Not in the cool firing-guns and secret-assignments department but hey it says S.H.I.E.L.D on the work title."

Natasha narrowed her eyes critically but seemed curious all the same. "I don't think I've ever seen you at the Triskelion."

"I don't work there. I'm off the HQ at the moment in a different department." _I've never been on the HQ to be honest _she added silently, knowing that even with the Black Widow she couldn't divulge details of her work.

Natasha smiled. "Shame. You seem too nice to be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Not many would've told me about the ticket inspector."

Mallory took this as a compliment and fell silent.

"You get out in the field much?" Natasha asked, sliding a little closer to Mallory on the bench, her arm perched on the backrest supporting her chin as she turned to face her. Mallory's smile faltered and she pressed her lips together, blocking the memories of the prison with images of the Soldier combat.

"Once. I can't talk about it and all but, it was awful." She confessed, finding herself comfortable saying it.

Natasha nodded knowingly. "It's not for everyone. My first outing – as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent – was pretty bad. You get used to it." Images of the Chitauri invasion flashed her mind and Mallory nodded. "Are you going back into the field?"

"No. Too much of a chicken, and really I'm not much use. I made Pierce write a no-field work clause into my contract."

"You deal directly with Pierce?" Natasha had swung her gaze completely over to her and shock filtered into her tone.

Mallory became a little speechless, afraid she had slipped up and revealed something she shouldn't of. "Um... yeah. He's my boss."

The Black Widow composed her features. "He's everybody's boss. Seems odd you have to contact with him." Natasha nodded to herself and felt silent, although it was comfortable.

Mallory shrugged to absolve the sudden feeling of prying. "Classified."

Natasha nodded, as if she knew what she meant. She turned to face the woman who she had admired for what felt like years, who was sitting close to her and smelling vaguely of some strong perfume and Dove soap. Feeling brave and wanting to continue the conversation, Mallory smiled at her.

"There's a coffee vendor down there. I'm choking."  
"Come on then."

They stood, and Natasha grinned. "I never caught your name." It was clearly a question.

"Mallory. I'm Mallory."

"Nice to meet you Mallory." She turned back around and they fell into a slow and comfortable pace. The breeze was nice and Mallory found herself unzipping her jacket as a sweat broke out across her brow. She hoped Natasha hadn't noticed, wiping her sleeve across her forehead.

"So how long have you worked with S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"Couple of months." It had felt like the longest months of her life but also the shortest. It had been good and bad all rolled together in a nice pay package and all of the benefits of good healthcare.

"Do you like it?"

"It's okay. The irregular hours are a bit annoying though. I feel like I can never plan anything."

Natasha laughed. "How do you think I feel? My life has been on hold for ten years. What about yours?"  
"Well, not on hold exactly. I find the workplace is a good place for meeting people."

Mallory found herself drifting on the shores of daydreaming about hazel eyes and American-Italian skin, and Natasha laughed. "What's his name?"

"His name is Brock? You might know him as Agent Rumlow." Natasha's eyebrow quirked, insinuating she did know who he was and she was impressed, insultingly. Mallory recoiled a little from her.

"What you think he's too good for me?" She was joking but also curious; he had spoken briefly of the woman who he had been with for four years, the girl called Ava but he hadn't mentioned anybody else in his dating past. Maybe Natasha would know more.

"No no! Not at all. It's just... I always saw Rumlow as a bachelor." Natasha nodded to herself. "Didn't expect to hear he was in a solid relationship at all."

"He's nice."

Natasha seemed to find this hilarious. "Well I just know him as sarky Agent Rumlow." Natasha shrugged. "I don't see him as a relationship sort of guy."

"He's alright." Mallory sniffed and Natasha swung her a disbelieving look. "Okay, so I might love him a little bit. But he's a pain in my ass."

Natasha smiled but there was something off about it as if she was lost on the shores of her own memory. To distract her, as she was beginning to frown as they approached the coffee stand, Mallory smiled. The vendor asked her what she wanted.

"Two coffees please."

"That'll be two dollars forty."

Mallory smiled and handed over the money. "Anyone special in your life?"

Natasha looked up from where she was rummaging in her pocket for the money she owed her and seemed a little stunned at the question. It was then Mallory noticed the gold necklace that rested in the hollow of her throat, the small pendant in the shape of an arrow. The image conjured up a picture of the archer who had been beside Natasha in the news images as they fought off the alien invasion.

"Not special in romantic terms. I don't keep many people close." She held out the coins as Mallory took the coffee from the vendor and handed hers to her. The warmth seeped through the cardboard holder and Mallory went to take a sip before deciding the steam was too hot to even dare.

"No, no it's on me. As a thank you."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Saving the world?" Mallory laughed. "Without the obvious cheesiness."

Natasha seemed a little stunned again, slowly putting the coins back in her pocket and clutching her coffee cup tightly as if she was afraid she would drop it. Her phone buzzed suddenly and laughing a little nervously, Natasha retrieved it out of her pocket and hesitated.

"Do you mind?" She asked, apologetic once more. Mallory shrugged and smiled, watching as she pressed the screen and had a short conversation with whoever was on the other end.

"I'm really sorry, I have to go pick a friend up." Mallory's smile widened. "It's been... nice. I'll see you soon. Maybe at work?"

Mallory nodded. "Hopefully. Have fun on your assignment." Mallory watched her walk down the street, a spring in her step, sipping from her coffee and texting somebody with one hand. Mallory watched her get in the sleek black car and drive past, her coffee cup in the holster, raising her hand through the window to wave at Mallory and smiling at her as she passed. Mallory waved back as the car circled back around the mall to pick her friend up near the park bit. She lingered on the sidewalk a moment longer, thinking about how strange but lovely her day had been and took a sip of her coffee, burning her mouth and cursing loudly on the street.

It was three days later and Mallory was in the lab, looking over the sheets she had picked up from David and running tests on the Soldier's glass coffin.

They were interesting articles indeed and as her hatred for the Soldier had diminished – but not completely vanished – her interest in the brainwashing science had increased. He had slept those three days, immobile and stony faced in cryo-sleep only occasionally his face would screw up and she'd notice him mouthing things to himself. The norm really. She skimmed the files, sipping a latte that David had bought her when he'd seen the state of her eyes. Rumlow was back from his mission as he'd been in frequent contact with her over phone and texts, but she hadn't seen him in the flesh as he'd been getting debriefed and set up for planning further missions in the future with Pierce over at the Triskelion. She missed his warmth and his smell although the break had been nice, giving her time to think and consider whether therapy for her post-assignment nightmare was necessary. Perhaps in time she'd learn to manage it. Natasha assurance that even she had experienced difficulty with her first mission had lessened the shame Mallory had felt for being so affected; if the Black Widow, a tough-as-nails agent had been affected on her first mission then Mallory's reaction was completely normal.

She was skimming most of the files, lost in the taste of her creamy latte and Rumlow when she came across a heading that interested her. MEMORY FRAGMENTATION the title boasted in a bold black font with a short explanation underneath it with diagrams of the brain. Putting her cup down, Mallory read to herself:

_Memory fragmentation is a theory suggested, but never proved, by a co-developer of the brainwashing science. Zola put forward the theory to state that as the shocks the subject receives merely suppresses the subjects hippocampus memory storage abilities, in theory these memories can be recovered with application of a strong emotional sight, smell or sound that is spoken, played or showed to the subject. Although a widely accepted theory in the brainwashing field of science, the theory has never been proven or disproved by scientists._

Although it got her excited, it also left her feeling sad. She glanced at the Soldier's encased body within the coffin. If only she knew merely a hint about the man who he had been, Mallory probably could've tried to bring his memories back. She had often wondered who the man had been when he had signed up for the programme and she had often wondered what had motivated him to do. Nobody would want themselves to be a cold hearted killer, she mused, as she found herself drawn to his coffin.

_Would he even want to be? _The Soldier lay with his face toward her, his eyes shut concealing his cool eyes that could frighten and comfort her. She ran a hand across the lid, leaving a trail of fingerprints and alerted the computer to update Pierce's office about the Soldier's medical status so he'd know everything the moment he got back.

The rest of the files were mainly scientific mumbo-jumbo that was far too complex for Mallory – she was a doctor not a brainwashing scientist—to understood so halfway through a thesis written on the brainwashing science by a man named Arnim Zola, Mallory put the files down and pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the ongoing assault on her senses. She focused on the noise in the lab, the faint beeping of the coffin as it monitored the Soldier, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, her breathing.

She must've dozed off as amidst flashes of blood and a cold jail cell, Mallory was startled awake by the A.I. "Incoming call from Pierce. Accept?"

"What- oh yeah. Yes. Accept." She ran a hand through her hair and jumped down from the bench she was sitting on. Instead of Pierce however, Rumlow's face occupied the space upon the wall where the Soldier's vitals were usually displayed. Mallory felt a rush of love and breathed out, smiling happily at the sight of his face on the screen.

However Rumlow was all business. "Dr. Smith, Pierce and I are on our way to you right now. He says to run the protocol and wake the Soldier up for his arrival."

Mallory nodded. "Um, yeah of course. Hey Rumlow-"

But it was too late, as a click echoed across the lab indicating he'd hung up. Stung, Mallory took a moment to clear her head before calling for the computer to activate the protocol. In the distance, she could hear the thudding of STRIKE agents shoes against the tiled floors, the rustling of their fatigues as they marched and the loud voice of Pierce echoing throughout the halls, yelling at someone. Surely he couldn't of arrived that quickly? With no time to muse, Mallory sprung into action when the glass coffin's green glow disappeared and the doors clicked, air hissing as the Soldier was awoken.

"Look sharp. He's here." Mallory barked and the Soldier took a moment to hop down from the coffin and stretch his arms up to the sky, his pale arms flexing and tightening the muscles beneath his skin, his body rippling with each movement. As a taken woman, the Soldier certainly was pleasing to admire. With a haircut and a shave perhaps he could be handsome. Mallory shook her head to free it of unprofessional thoughts.

Pierce and Rumlow appeared first and their sights shocked Mallory into a meek silence. Both men were physically fine only Pierce's face was red and filled with anger, his shark-like eyes narrowed with ferocity as he centered his gaze on Mallory. On the other hand, Rumlow was placid and content with standing idle, his hands clasped together, his posture ramrod straight and a vacant expression that reminded her eerily of the Soldier's.

Pierce's gaze narrowed even more at Mallory. "Is he fit for fieldwork?" When she didn't answer in the millisecond he gave her, he yelled. "_I said is he fit for fieldwork_?!"

Mallory felt a slight terror pierce her and she exchanged a worried look with the Soldier, who had been staring straight ahead but upon feeling her eyes, turned his head and nodded a little encouragingly. Mallory swallowed tightly.

"Yes, sir." Her voice was small and weak, like a mouse. She hadn't checked him but it seemed of little consequence right now.

She had never pitted a man like Pierce to blow his lid like that. He seemed to her like a man who no matter how many of the odds stacked against him he would always be two, three even four steps ahead of his enemy. That was what probably had gotten him into this business. His entire visage suggested a man capable of the extreme of coldness towards others; a smile to the enemy but once their backs were turned he would compose his face to a mask of nothing and stab them without hesitation. Even Mallory's constant feeling that he reminded her of a shark, with those beady eyes that assessed everything you were doing.

Although not physically frightening due to his age and stature, there was something about Pierce that just _terrified _Mallory. Be it the cold eyes that showed no emotion, or the way he conducted business with an efficient manner especially in his type of business she wasn't sure. And watching this seemingly disconnected creature become filled with the spears of human rage was even more frightening because it confirmed everything she had previously denied; that although Pierce was capable of inhumane acts, he was at his center, as human as she was.

Pierce glared at Rumlow, who stared at the floor and avoided his bosses eyes. "Prep him. I'm going back to the Triskelion to try and sort this mess out."

Pierce left the room in a whirl, a tornado of anger and emotion that left Mallory and Rumlow and the Soldier in an awkward silence. Rumlow marched over to the cupboards in the corner to retrieve the Soldier's repaired gear, as Mallory drifted over to the Soldier and performed the mandatory mental tests.

"Put these on." He handed the Soldier's his clothes, for some reason unable to look at Mallory. "I'll be waiting to debrief you." That fact that he didn't look at her hurt her even more.

Mallory wanted to ask what had gotten Pierce so riled up and why Rumlow was being so distant but it didn't seem the time nor the place. She watched impassively as Rumlow strided from the room and as the Soldier stripped in front of, dressing in his armour. He fumbled with the straps of his jacket, until Mallory couldn't take it any more and slapped his hand away, doing it herself.

"Thanks." He said quietly.

Mallory made a noise that confirmed she had heard him and turned away to clear up the mess of files and latte cups on the desk. She heard the Soldier stride from the room, his chunky black boots banging against the tiled floor but when the steady stream of footfalls stopped, Mallory looked up to see he had stopped, turned and was staring at her.

"What?"

The Soldier looked her up and down, then turned from the room and left wordlessly. _Weird_. _Such a weird man_. Mallory cracked her knuckles and decided to return the files to David in the tech hall. The guards behind the door that guarded her in the lab were gone; were they still away on assignment with the Captain? No, she decided, remembering how Rumlow had been back for days. As she reached the main hall, the feelings of strangeness intensified. The hall was empty, all of the techs away to let their new equipment software be installed as they caught up with each other on their lunch break. The silence was deafening and unnerving, and she found herself suddenly nervous as she placed the borrowed folder on the workplace where she knew David was working. Her gaze found its way to Pierce's office, and without thinking of any security measures he might have, she found herself walking up the stairs to his office hesitantly. The door was open.

She opened it further on a curious impulse. Apart from a coffee cup and a single file lying on his desk haphazardly, the office was untouched and free from human contact. She swallowed nervously, feeling as if some unknown presence was watching her every move and recording her to Pierce could have her executed later. Ready to leave at any moment. But the file... a photograph lay peeking out of the corner of a beautiful woman with bright red hair and a skintight black uniform. _Natasha. _She was over to the file within seconds and had it in her hands; the front was marked with a scary CLASSIFIED stamp. Natasha's section of the folder had her name as Natalia, with her detailed history that Mallory felt was too impersonal to read and her statistics – height, weight, S.H.I.E.L.D database entry level, affiliations (KGB was marked under past and struck out with a handwritten pen, AVENGERS was written in a shaky capital), notable missions – alongside a small section marked with the words 'a threat?'.

At the bottom someone had written 'dangerous and clever, most definitely a threat'. A threat to who? HYDRA? But HYDRA were a sub-divison of S.H.I.E.L.D, why would they perceive their own agent as a threat? Confusion marked Mallory's face.

The next page was much the same, only instead of the beautiful redhead, the image of Captain America dominated the space. His stats were higher than Natasha's, and his notable missions page was easier to read as none were blacked out. Stuff in the forties, then a big gap as the mission underneath the storming of the HYDRA base was the Battle of New York. He was also perceived as a threat.

The next page was exactly the same as the first two, only Director Fury was the image. His missions were all blacked out, a secretive man in even his own database. He was also a threat. How could he be a threat to his own job? Shaking her head, Mallory put down the files and the breeze fluttered a small piece of paper she hadn't noticed resting atop the desk. Bending to pick it up, the small paper had obviously been in someone's pocket for a while as it was crumpled and it curled at the corners. Through the back she could see the hard impressions of the black ink on the other side, and when she turned it over somebody had handwritten something in a tight cursive:

_Project INSIGHT under threat. Eliminate priority target with WS, then the rest._

_AP_

AP? The dots connected quicker then she'd imagined and formed the image of a man with glasses who resembled a shark. Alexander Pierce.

Her mind moved onto the next mystery; Project INSIGHT? What was that? And eliminate the targets? Did that mean the Soldier was going to kill Fury, Natasha and Steve? Who was the priority target?

What had they done to S.H.I.E.L.D to cause it's own sub-division to turn against it? The mission with Rumlow and the STRIKE team flashed through her mind. Perhaps the three had conspired against the STRIKE team and gone rogue for some reason. But who? What on earth would make the personification of patriotism turn his back on his country? Not to be harsh, but she found the reveal that Natasha had betrayed the state who had given her sanctuary less shocking. She was a spy after all and switching sides was easy to her. Judging from her past in the KGB and her defection to the US, it seemed almost logical that she would jump ship if the going got tough. And Fury... he was the head of a spy division after all. Maybe he'd been influenced and swayed to another political agenda. It seemed as if that sort of thing was easy these days.

Mallory returned the files were they were, feeling as if the eyes in the office had pressed a button and a STRIKE team were on their way to arrest her. As the stragglers from the lunch break made their way back to their desks, calling greetings as she passed, Mallory tried to stop shaking – down to a caffeine rush and fear—and headed back to the lab as casually as she could manage smiling and waving back.

The cold lab felt emptier than normal, and the walls seemed to expand outwards from her, leaving her isolated inside. Without the Soldier the lab always felt colder. The presence of another person even if they were in cryo-sleep was always a comforting one. She called for the A.I to run a few tests on the empty glass coffin, and waited for it finish with her mind mulling over the details of file.

Guilt consumed her. _Stupid stupid stupid. _There was probably cameras in his office, capturing her every move and once he found out, she'd be fired. Or killed more likely. Her father would be fired most likely as he was the one who had brought her into the industry. Idiot girl. Her fingernails drummed against the table; Project INSIGHT, WS, priority target... the names swirled and whirled in her head as if they were in a washing machine. Nothing made sense. She jumped down from the table and began marking her notepad with the words, writing them in a list to see if they made life any easier. Seeing the words in ink made it no clearer; with the letters facing toward her the mystery deepened.

There was a storm coming; she could taste the electricity buzzing in the air and was tense with apprehension and even excitement as the feeling of fear washed over her. What this storm would bring however, she had no idea.

Sampson Smith was always frightened when Pierce called him. Sometimes it happened in the dead of night, sometimes on a coffee run for his dear wife Julia. But whenever it did happen, Sampson felt a shooting pain through his chest and arm akin to a minor heart attack. It was never pleasant. So when his phone was aglow with the words 'Pierce' written in the blocky capital, Sampson took a moment to collect himself and allow the pain to diminish before sliding the green button across the screen and answering.

"Yes, sir?" There was no time for greetings in HYDRA.

Pierce got straight down to business, snapping like a shark with fury only there was still an element of control. "Fury has asked me to delay the project. I've called in the asset."

Sampson was pierced with cold fear. "Is that wise, sir? If Fury survives-" He never got the chance to finish.

"Do you doubt Barnes? He's never failed." Pierce let out a short laugh. "Since the hiring of your sweet daughter, Smith, the Soldier has never been in better shape. You were right, she's a good girl."

Sampson's throat tightened at the mention of his daughter, a lump forming in the back of his throat making it hard to swallow; what he had done to her over the past four months was despicable even by his standards. She had been lied to on a daily basis, about her work, about the Soldier. Thank God he'd never told her what HYDRA was when he'd told her the story of Steve Rogers. He remembered her ten year old smile of sadness and awe as she sat on his lap and listened intently to the tale of Steve Rogers and his Howling Commandos. If only she knew about the Soldier... who he was and what he had been and what he had done. She would quit for sure, wallowing in self-loathing and hatred of him for the rest of her life. But it wouldn't be a long one. Nobody quit HYDRA. The doctor who had previously occupied Mal's position, Dr. Harriet, had been executed when she'd quit, her body thrown in a deep river and passed off as suicide when some hikers found her.

"I know." His statement came out harsher then intended so he changed the subject before Pierce could challenge him. "Where is the Soldier now?"

"On his way to meet Fury en route. He's onto us, Sampson. I believe he hired Batroc and got that bitch to hack the files."

Sampson nodded gravely; he'd been thinking about this himself. "It makes sense. But how would he know?"

"Could be anything." Pierce's tone took a more conversational route. "When Stark was helping with the Chitauri disaster, he ran a programme and hacked into the database."

"But surely he would know-"

"Please, Sampson don't insult my intelligence. I wouldn't store anything as incriminating as that on the S.H.I.E.L.D database." Then he took on the tone of confession. "But I must admit, there will be some suspicious files in the database. Not enough to accuse us both, but enough to cause suspicion. Stark could've passed them onto Fury, or Fury could've found them himself."

Sampson paused long enough to watch Julie walk into the living room and smile at him, before taking the vase of flowers of their table and returning to the kitchen. "Then why hasn't Stark shown up?"

"Well he's been tied up hasn't he? You must've been following the news, Sampson."

Images of the Mandarin and his brief reign of terror over the American airways filtered into his head, alongside the news that followed that Tony Stark had blown up all his suits, removed the shrapnel from his heart and was in the process of rebuilding the Stark Tower, now re branded the Avengers Tower.

"Yes I have sir. So you think he's been too busy?"

Pierce sighed, long and hard over the phone. "Too busy to investigate fully. I think what he's done is put the files in the back of his database and that stupid A.I he built has notified him of the irregularities in the data. You know what Stark is like, he probably sent them over to Fury because he couldn't be bothered to look at them and deleted them from his database." Pierce laughed again. "Anyway even if he knows, it's not like he can do anything. Without the suits, Stark is an annoyance at best."

Sampson agreed with this; in his opinion Stark had blown up the only worthy thing about himself. "What about Barton? If he joins with Romanoff – which he will – surely we'll have a minor disaster on our hands?"  
Pierce sighed. "Barton has been dealt with. I've used my contacts and gotten him sent in some banal mission in Afghanistan. By the time he's done, it'll be too late. From our research into the scepter, Barton possesses capabilities to be brainwashed again."

"So our main priorities at the moment are Fury, Rogers and Romanoff, sir?"

Pierce seemed to agree. "Yes. And Barnes will not fail us. I guarantee Fury will be dead by tomorrow."

As Pierce hung up and Sampson listened to the dialing tone, he saw the disapproving face of his daughter crop up in his minds eye.

_Please forgive me Mallory. _

A/N: Lengthy update, because I'm nice. I hit 100 followers! That is so amazing, you guys are awesome. Also, big thanks to everyone who wished me luck on my exams. It seems to be working so far. We begin the movie plot, and although she will be involved, I won't be doing the usual OC-thing where they conveniently witness every scene of the movie. The scenes from the movie which she is involved him will be for a reason.

Also good luck to everyone else who's taking exams. You can do it; don't stress yourselves out over them too much! My readers have to take care of themselves


	12. I Never Miss

_It was the Russian jail cell corridor only things had changed._

_The ice of the jail was warm now, heat like the infernos of Hell blazing the floors the colour of leaves in the Fall. Hot to the touch, she walked barefoot and gasped in pain with each step she took, heat flaring her heels and toes. It was a dream where she observed but somebody else controlled her actions rendering incapable of running from the scene. Only she was curious at the change._

_Her mother and father occupied the first cell; they paid no mind to her and argued amongst themselves. Between the crackle of flame and the tortured screams of Ariadne as she birthed her child on that cold dark night, she could hear her mother calling her father a traitor, a liar, a disgrace. He bowed his head in shame and offered no resistance. She moved past._

_The second cell was Fury; he lay on the ground writhing with pain in a pool of blood._

_The third cell was Captain America, in his old battle uniform torn with bullet holes with his ruined shield by his side. He sat on the bed and raised his head to glare at her, his eyes growing red like molten lava filled with hatred. She was pierced with fear but moved past all the same._

_The fourth cell was Romanoff crouching on the ground with a bow lying at her feet, wearing a white dress that ran red with blood. She raised her head and tossed her suddenly long red hair behind her, singing a lullaby in Russian. Mallory moved past._

_The fifth cell was with Rumlow. A shadow covered his face and she smelt burning flesh. She ran out of the cell and it clicked shut on it's own, and she found herself calmly moving past as if nothing had happened. _

_The last cell held the Soldier sitting on the ground with Pierce above him. The door was open and Mallory stepped through. The Soldier wore nothing, a naked baby below her and Pierce was above dressed in white, dangling a marionette which she realized was attached to the Soldier. Pierce laughed, looking more shark-like than ever and Mallory watched as he raised the Soldier's wrist to dangle helplessly in front of her, the string stretching to accommodate the weight. _

_She held a pair of scissors in her hand but the dream would not allow her to strike the string through. So she stood and watched, as the master played with his puppet-_

The opening lines to _Stupid Hoe _began to sing, and Mallory jerked awake in cold sweat and fear. The dream lingered for a moment in her mind – the panic in the Soldier's eyes, the crisp whiteness of Pierce's suit, the glinting scissor blades - then disappeared, beginning to fade as the conscious world drifted in. The bedroom was dark, silent and serene, punctured only by her gasping and the sound of Nicki Minaj beginning to rap. Beside her, Rumlow stirred at the movement but didn't wake, burrowing his face deeper into the pillow to ignore the noise.

Groping in the dark, Mallory's hand hit the beside table hard and she yelped, knocking over a plant pot with a plastic lily on it and smashing the vase. _I can't deal with this right now._ Sighing, she switched the light on. Rumlow groaned as light filled the dark room.

"Babe..." He said vaguely, patting the space beside him and finding Mallory's damp body. "What time is it?"

She ignored him, finding the phone and sliding the green button across the screen. The name announced it was Pierce and a cold fear struck her much like it had in the dream.

"Sir?" She dared not sound like she hadn't been asleep moments earlier.

"The Soldier is back and the car is waiting. Put Rumlow on the phone."

_How did Pierce know Rumlow was with her? _She ignored it and filed away the suspicions for a later date. "Yes, sir."

She shook Rumlow awake and handed the phone over. "It's Pierce." She whispered helpfully, as he took it in confusion. The change over him was immediate; he rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his wild hair and sat up. He began answering Pierce's questions with a rapid fire attentiveness, his throat a little thick with sleep. Mallory left him on the bed to make herself look semi-presentable for the car.

She dressed in leggings and a white shirt, brushing her teeth. She scraped her slightly greasy hair back in an unflattering bun and spat the rest of her minty toothpaste into the sink, watching as the foam swirled down into the plughole. As she reentered the bedroom, Rumlow had vacated the bed and was putting a pair of pants on one handed, still talking to Pierce. She waited for him to hang up, and he put the phone back on the bedside table with a face graver then if he'd found out his mother had died.

"Something wrong?"

He looked at her, confusion in his expression then padded toward her barefoot. "Babe I'm gonna have to go on an assignment."

She took his hands and rubbed her thumbs over the back of his knuckles. "How long we talking here?"

"I'm not sure."

She nodded. "Am I allowed to know what for?"

He shook his head; she was used to operating in secrecy but he attempted a smile. "I will tell you it's a manhunt."

Mallory nodded, remembered the sheet labeling Rogers a threat and said jokingly. "For Steve Rogers?" Her smile faded.

He recoiled from her slightly, and she noticed how he had tensed his forearms. Was she actually right? "What makes you say that?"

"I was just kidding- wait it's not actually a manhunt for Steve Rogers is it?" His face coloured red and it was so _obvious_. How on earth was this man a spy? "Oh my God, it is, isn't it?"

She had caught him off guard. "I can't tell you." He was panicking, talking fast.

Images of the file conjured up in her head and she remembered the Soldier. His mission had been fulfilled; priority target was eliminated."Rumlow!"

"It's classified!" He laughed once in an attempt to stay light but there was a certain unnerving hardness in his face indicating he wanted her to stop.  
"Look I wish I could tell you but I can't." He lent in to kiss her but as he did, it felt more like he was silencing her. She felt uneasy as they left the apartment together, Mallory's hand clamped tightly around the phone she had grabbed from the bedside table.

Two cars waited on the sidewalk for them both in the brisk early morning, Rumlow explaining he was needed at the Triskelion instead of Bunker. They parted for what felt like the foreseeable future on the doorstep, Mallory breathing in his scent and trying to remember it so her nights would feel less lonely.

"I'll miss you." She murmured into the fabric-softened scent of his shirt. He didn't reply, kissing the top of her head and moving into the car without a backward glance. She heard him sniff and wipe at his face as he moved away. Mallory lingered upon the pavement to watch his car drive away, waving at the blacked out windows. Mallory then got into her own car and toyed with the recent discoveries in her world.

Steve Rogers and possibly Natasha were being hunted. Fury, after Pierce's admission that the Soldier was back from his mission, was most likely dead. She doubted Pierce would take failure, especially after he had seemed so angry. So what had they done? HYDRA had evaluated all three of them as threats; had they actively put their threatening status into practice and done something? Had it been like Kohl, they'd blackmailed somebody in a high position? Had they sabotaged a mission and released some information to the public? She hadn't seen anything to do with S.H.I.E.L.D or HYDRA trending on Twitter since the Chitauri invasion. It must've been something terrible because Captain America surely wouldn't go against his country. There had to be a proper reason. Captain America and manhunt didn't really gel together in the same sentence.

She thought about all as the guards escorted her from the top to the lift through the cold tiled halls of the Bunker and into the lab. She spotted her father, looking more stressed then ever, roaming the halls and stepping up and down off the steps that lead to Pierce's office looking agitated. She approached him nervously.

"Hey, sweetie." Even his voice sounded nervous. "What's up?"

"Nothing I'm just... just confused to why you're here. I thought you were at the Triskelion with Pierce?"

He laughed nervously at the mention of his bosses name and ran a hand through his hair; although old, her father still possessed a full head of hair.

"No. No, no. He wants me here." His small eyes narrowed on her nervously. "Did you hear about Fury?"

"No?" Although she had never met the man, the presence of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D was everywhere. Her father shifted nervously, rolling on the balls of his feet and his mouth curled into an unpleasant smile.

"He's dead."

_He's done it again_. Mallory's face tightened to a mask of nothing, a trick she had learnt from the man himself, and she coolly observed her father.

"Why are you smiling?" She asked him, feeling her voice hardened and her father grow more nervous. He looked at her up and down before answering.

"Isn't it obvious?" Mallory shook her head and indicated for him to continue. "Fury got a little restless, asking questions about INS-"

He stopped himself but Mallory saw the small slip of paper in her head. "INSIGHT. Yeah what is that? I saw it on a file in Pierce's office when I went to see him." _Half-truths don't count as lies, do they?_

"Nothing for you to know." He was about to say something else when his phone buzzed in his pocket – her father actually jumped, scrambling to find the phone before the ring tone stopped. A little alarmed, Mallory backed away and muttered something about finding the lab.

"Yeah, yeah." He said distractedly, wiping a wet-with-sweat hand on his pants whilst trying to untangle the phone of his pocket. "See you soon..."

The strange expression stayed with her until she entered the lab to the sight of the Soldier who sat calmly on the examination table, staring ahead into space. He seemed lost in his own drama and for a second she found herself imagining him thinking about all of things a normal man thinks about; work, food, sex, money troubles, philosophy on life, politics, his girlfriend. She could see the images in her head, pizza swirling with a beautiful blonde haired girl who flipped her hair and smiled. His face was so neutral, so relaxed then normal that for a moment it seemed possible for her to believe that he was just a normal guy who needed a haircut.

Then he stiffened and his head snapped towards her; his face hardened almost immediately but softened a little when he realized it was her.

Mallory approached, and began her usual examination. She noted his weight loss – he had gone from 210 pounds to 197 and it was worrying. Did he feel sick? Was he clammy, cold, feverish? She rattled the questions off in a quick fire manner and he answered everyone with a no, staring ahead once more. She updated the computer and her notes with his progress, and felt his eyes on her as she moved around the lab.

"Fury's dead."

She stiffened and felt the hairs on her entire body stand up as goosebumps prickled her skin. The chill was sent through her spin, shuddering her nervous system so much that she slowly pivoted to face him. Part of her wanted to fly at him with questions and demand to hear answers fiercely as neither Pierce nor Rumlow had been forthcoming with them. Part of her wanted to nod and quietly ask him if he was okay, because even though he had shot Kohl in cold blood he had said that for a time he had wrestled with himself not wanting to disappoint his doctor. A childish part of her just wanted to cry and start running out of the Bunker and never stop.

"I know." She breathed softly, slowly walking towards him. "Did he... did he die quickly?"

The Soldier nodded then pressed his fingers to the left side of his chest. "Bullet in the heart... I never miss."

Mallory's throat had tightened. She swallowed uneasily, trying to get rid of the lump that felt like it was blocking her degulition system.

"Are you... are you okay?" It seemed like a silly question to ask once it was out in the open. He'd been staring at the floor but when she'd asked it he raised his eyes to meet. Normally so cool and calm and collected, a small sliver of fear was showing through the cracks. It broke her heart to be honest. As turbulent and confusing as their relationship had been, she was mad at him because she cared. Sometimes it felt like she was being angry with a robot, a perfect but lifeless robot who responded to orders but couldn't think or feel for himself. It was frustrating, like she was beating down her entire emotions on a brick wall and asking if anybody could hear her. Sometimes he could, responding with allowing her to touch him as he had back in the prison, or comforting her after she had realized her own guilt had made her so angry with him. Sometimes he couldn't, the cool eyed stare he had given her before shooting Kohl in the back. It was fifty fifty with the Soldier.

"There was a man there. With a shield, painted with the American flag." _Captain America, the next target. _The Soldier lifted himself from the table, interested. "He was almost as fast as me, and as strong. Do you know who he is?"

Mallory nodded and opened her mouth to answer. Before she could however, the A.I startled her.

"Incoming call from Pierce. Accept?"

Mallory glanced at the Soldier but he had sat back down and had bowed his head towards the floor. "Accept."

"Miss Smith." _He was calling her Miss again_. His background was different; instead of the stationary glass office, he was moving in a black tinted car through the streets of Washington. Mallory tilted her head sideways and watched as the camera rocked with each movement of the vehicle. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

Her heart rate quickened, and she found the lump coming back stronger then ever, so hard that she could barely speak. She tilted her head and nodded, in a way of asking him to continue.

"The Bunker is under threat. We're moving you to a safehouse for the foreseeable future."

"Why?"

Pierce's entire face tightened when she said that. His eyes hardened in a beady shark-like glare, his jaw tightened under the wrinkled skin and even his lips stretched into a thin line almost as if he was trying to control his temper. He didn't like questions, she knew that but to look murderous when she asked one?

"The Bunker is under threat." He merely repeated in an even tighter, strained voice. "A guard will be coming to pack up the machines then Level 3 will be activated."

It took a moment but memories of her and David's conversation about the Bunker's fail safes slowly dribbled into her mind; Level 3 was a warhead aimed at the lab to destroy anything related to the Winter Soldier.

"I didn't realize he was under threat, sir." Mallory amended, realizing that Fury had discovered something to do with HYDRA and had either discovered, or was close to discovering anything about the Soldier when he died.

About twenty HYDRA agents entered the room and began packing up the big jagged black machine that vaguely resembled a tarantula. It broke off in all different parts and they piled it up in huge bags, eventually disassembling it in front of her. They left the coffin however and Mallory turned back to the screen.

"Sir, are we not putting him back into cryo-sleep?"

Pierce sighed, tired and annoyed with her questions. "No. For the time being, the Soldier will be activated permanently."

He clicked off without so much as a goodbye. The Soldier jumped down from the table and began dressing in his armour. Mallory averted her eyes and began taking things with her that she most certainly needed; the fancy A.I screen would be blown to smithereens. It was like leaving an old house behind, the walls filled with memories of days gone by. She had worked here for five months. Or was it six? She had lost count. Slowly, methodically, she packed up the tablet she'd been using and some files and piled them into a large bag that one of the agents had left her.

"Hey, are you taking me to my apartment? I need to get some clothes" She asked the agent, who hovered around her with a steely glare. He stifled a sigh then nodded once as she gathered her things.

The walkie-talkie strapped to his shirt suddenly buzzed and the disoriented voice saying something crackled. He smiled awkwardly and excused himself out of the room. _The database was going to be destroyed so no one will know. _Mallory found herself in the silent room drifting over to the computer. Her fingers flew across the keyboard and her skin prickled with that feeling of someone watching her; the Soldier's curiousity. A quick search found Romanoff's entry on the S.H.I.E.L.D database and another quick one found her phone number. Heart thudding, Mallory wasn't why she was scribbling it down on a spare piece of paper amongst her notes and ripped it free, putting it into her jeans pocket.  
"Could you do me a favour?" She asked the Soldier, coming close, swinging the bag around her shoulder. The Soldier nodded, glancing at her coolly.

"Yes."  
"Don't tell anyone what I just did."

Mallory opened the shutters to her apartment and peeked out of the window; the black SUV outside that held the Soldier and some HYDRA goons still stood on the road next to the sidewalk. A guard patrolling the SUV noticed her peering out obviously onto them onto the street and glared at her. Hiding a sigh, she moved away from the window and walked to the bed where blue suitcase lay open filled with neatly folded clothes and books to keep her occupied.

The temptation to call her mother or the Widow was overwhelming so she had placed her phone on the bedside table on charge to try and stop the urge. She had packed clothes, pajamas, her Kindle... the only things left were her toothbrushes and her iPod. She went into the bathroom and gathered her things in a small zip-lock bag.

"Smile, Mallory." She told her macabre-looking reflection. "Someone could be falling in love with you."

"Miss Smith?" _Shit. _She had forgotten about the guard standing waiting for her. "Are you almost done?"

"Yeah yeah. Could you get my case and take it down? I just need to find something then I'll be down."

She unlocked the door and smiled at the guard, who smiled back and zipped up the case for her. She pretended to be busying herself with looking for something, but really she was listening as the thumps of his steel-toed boots echoed down the steps. She moved back towards the shutters to watch as the guard lugged her case towards the pavement.

Moving fast, she grabbed her phone off charge and without really thinking clearly, grabbed the paper from her pocket and typed the number in. A second later, she was being connected.

Something in her desired to disobey Pierce. The Widow, despite her past filled with treason, seemed far too nice to do something to against the agency that had taken her in and forgiven her. And judging from how the Widow and the Captain had fought together in the Battle of New York, she assumed that more than likely the Captain would be with her. As the number rang she wasn't sure if Natasha would pick up, as she calling her S.H.I.E.L.D issued cellphone from an unknown number but with almost three rings and before Mallory realized how bad of an idea this was – she was talking to a woman who was hunted by her agency for Chrissake! - the Widow's deep voice answered.

"Who is this?" She merely sounded curious.

Mallory paused for a moment to listen to the background noises – she could hear the thrum of an engine but not much else.

"Nat? It's me, Mallory?"

The woman sighed in relief, remembering her instantly. "Jesus you almost scared the shit out of me. Wait, how did you get my number?"

"It was on the S.H.I.E.L.D database." Mallory dismissed this as irrelevant. "Look I shouldn't be calling you right now but I just wanted to ask... why are you being hunted?"

She sounded amused. "Oh probably my association with the marvelous Captain." Her tone was laced with sarcasm and she heard someone tut loudly beside her, and Natasha laughing over the phone.

"Who is it?" The other voice asked, sounding distant. Natasha replied to them over the phone.

"Her name is Mallory Smith. A doctor. I met her a couple of days ago. Nice girl. A little too cutesy and country to be working at S.H.I.E.L.D but whatever. She has direct contact with Pierce."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Natasha just seemed amused. Mallory cleared her throat.  
"Cutesy and country? I've never lived in the country."

"I know." Natasha didn't sound too bothered. "Did Pierce put you up to this? Ask you to call me and pretend to be a friend? If he's there, tell him it won't work this phone is going straight out of the window."

"No. How could you think that?" _She's a spy you idiot. _"They're keeping us in the dark here! I'm risking everything just calling you! I just thought if both you and the Captain are being hunted and they weren't telling us anything then it would've been something dangerous."

Natasha was listening and once Mallory had finished, she stayed silent for a couple of seconds. Then she heard her take a deep breath and begin to relay something down the phone.

"Look you better listen and maybe kill the phone after this because they're probably listening right now. I like to think of myself as a good judge of character-"

The other voice interrupted. "Fury said we shouldn't trust anyone-"

"Steve, please, I'm talking. Anyway, I like to think of myself as a good judge of character and from what I know and read, you seem like a nice and honest girl. So listen because I'm only going to say this once." Mallory waited, with a sense of impending doom. "Get out. Leave S.H.I.E.L.D immediately and go upstate somewhere. Get away. We think S.H.I.E.L.D has been compromised."

The revelation shocked her to her core, and she had to sit down on the bed in fear of her legs giving way beneath her. "How?"

Natasha sighed and carried on grimly. "Fury was investigating before his death. We don't how, or why or who has done it. We're tracking down a lead at the moment but I'm not going to say where in case someone is listening. Your boyfriend Rumlow almost had us today. He's a real charmer that one."

"He's been issued orders for arrest, I think. He wouldn't kill you." At least she thought he wouldn't. The patience of the guards below, she knew, was fading fast and soon they'd be investigating on why she hadn't returned. They had to wind this conversation up quickly.

Natasha shrugged. "He couldn't kill us, we were in a public place. Anyway he didn't see us." She sighed. "And if Pierce is listening, I want him to know we will find out what he has done and we will exterminate the threat."

Mallory swallowed. "There's no one here. Natasha?"

"Hm?"

"Stay safe."

"You too." The line went dead. Mallory locked the screen as her stomach roiled a little, her brain coping a little too slowly with the new influx of information. So Fury had discovered some information that said S.H.I.E.L.D was compromised... he had obviously passed this information to Cap and the Widow before he had died. Of course Rumlow had been sent to deal with it because although he was STIRKE agent, his team also reported to S.H.I.E.L.D. Pierce had been the one who had issued orders to exterminate the Fury's threat but surely if something had compromised S.H.I.E.L.D it had also compromised HYDRA? Unless... unless Fury had discovered HYDRA and deemed it a threat? Perhaps he had come across some Winter Soldier files by accident and met his death by irony to the charge he had discovered. David had told her on her very first day that S.H.I.E.L.D had no idea of HYDRA's existence so maybe Fury had accidentally discovered the files and misinterpreted them? The fact that HYDRA employed a brainwashed assassin would seem a little evil but as Pierce had assured her, the Soldier was only exterminating people who compromised the peace.

But then again the death of Oswick had thrown that into doubt. Pierce had all but admitted they had hired the Soldier out to Reznak and had him kill a man to exterminate the competition. It had been a one off, her father said, using the money from the sale to fund new weaponry for the Soldier. Fury could have come across these files and seen HYDRA as using their connections with S.H.I.E.L.D to create a business that made money through blood. Obviously, Pierce was under legal jurisdiction not to calmly explain to Fury what HYDRA was about like reasonable adults would but ordering his death was a little extreme. This entire situation, seemed to Mallory, like a huge misunderstanding.

She stood up again, Natasha's advice ringing in her ears, to grab her phone from the bedside table to call Natasha and explain illegally what had gone on. Although it was illegal surely her morals could justify doing it. She reached for the phone.

But her reach fell short as her eyes fell upon the broken plant plot. Frowning, she remembered knocking it over this morning when she'd gone into work. The plastic lily stood on it's side, and a leaf had snapped off. But that wasn't what had drawn her attention.

Lying on its side, a splintered black box stared up at her. The only reason it had stood out was the fact that a small LED light was flashing red in a warning. She picked it up. The underside was covered in a sticky resin, and when she checked the broken leaf it was also covered in the same sticky liquid. Her deduction was immediate; the box had been glued away, hidden from view. She turned the box over in her hands.

She recognized it instantly. David had been telling her about new spy-ware, and his latest invention was a small black transmitter that could be placed anyway and hacked all devices within a mile radius connected to the internet and relayed them to any other PC, laptop, cellphone, tablet or anything other device that had computing power; it sent information, incoming and out coming calls, emails, websites accessed, passwords used. He had nicknamed it the Spymaster 3000 and boasted that however was spying could switch devices on and off that it could see meaning it could focus on one mobile phone in an area of a mile or twenty in an area of a meter. He had even told her how it worked, and in between the snoozing she had registered that green light meant it was working, red light meant it was off.

It was obvious why it was in her home. They'd been spying on her and once she'd knocked it over this morning, she had broken the delicate thing. The only thing that boggled her mind was the fact that Rumlow had given her that lily.

"And this is the living room."

Mallory looked around with next to none enthusiasm, her skull rattling with soundbites of Rumlow's sweet nothings. It was a simple apartment, roughly the same size as hers but sleeker; the walls were white, floors tiled with light brown wood and the furniture was simple. Everything about it screamed minimalism, from the small wooden coffee table in front of the antique-like stereo, to the absence of a TV and a computer. Mallory managed a weak smile when she thought about how her mother would love the simplistic effect of the apartment, but also found herself sad that she had wasted her phone call to a headache-inducing call to Natasha instead of her.

_She touched the petals; instead of the waxy texture she expected her fingertips were met by plastic. "Plastic?"_

"_Yeah. So it'll never die." Rumlow looked a little abashed at his next statement. "Like us hopefully." _

The only thing that ruined the simplistic effect was the big metal shutters that obscured the big bay windows and the glass doors. The apartment would've been in darkness save for the floor lamps that cast a harsh white light across the room.

"No TV, and all of the metal keeps out the Wi-Fi signals." The agent said. His boots clunked against the floor as he gestured to the shutters.

"Can I call my mother?" Mallory asked lifeless, spying the wooden phone topping the small wooden table next to the white sofa. The agent shrugged.

"The landline is on and it works but it's monitored by us so we'll know if you call anyone. So even though you can, we advise that you don't." A veiled order. She decided she didn't like the agent one bit.

Neither did the Soldier. He stood beside her, looking as uninterested as one could when he glanced over the room. He had not spoken nor even looked at her properly since they'd left the lab. The agent had made a lurid joke about bringing a girl back here and the Soldier had narrowed his eyes- ever so subtly, ever so slightly but it was enough to indicate to everyone else in the car that given the chance, the Soldier would beat the living shit out of him. The agent had also informed her that since the Soldier would be out of cryo-sleep Pierce had ordered the agents to put them both in an apartment together.

"_Yeah. So it'll never die." Rumlow looked a little abashed at his next statement. "Like us hopefully." _

"And my bedroom?" Mallory asked, tired of taking the agent's wonder tour through the house and wanting to get into a bed to cry over Rumlow and that stupid lily and that stupid sentence that wouldn't stop playing in her head.

"There's only one bedroom I'm afraid, but there's two beds." So it would be impossible for her to be alone, unless she went to the bathroom. "Bathrooms ensuite and kitchen is through there. There's a kit in the room to help you tend to him medically. Pierce will call you on the landline if he needs you. You will have to stay inside all day; we'll provide food and refresh anything that runs out. Would you like me to show you how to use the landline?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and snapped, "I know how to use a fucking landline." Curtly spoke, she turned her back as the agent left the room and slammed the front door. The Soldier glanced at her, probably due to her outburst but she didn't care, walking into the bedroom to avoid him.

Two single beds occupied the space, with merely a sliver of floor between them and a beside table with a lamp and clock with a digital face. Mallory looked between the beds and chose the one nearest to the bathroom in case she needed to be alone during the night. Forgetting the door was wide open, she slid her leggings off and was beginning to undo the shirt and wriggle under the covers when the Soldier walked in.

"Sorry!" She said a little lifelessly, hurrying to cover the open shirt and panty clad ass from his view. "I forgot the door was open."

He didn't seem bothered, nodding once and walking onto the other bed where he slowly kicked off his shoes and began taking off his jacket. He seemed to have the same idea as her, deciding to go to bed straight away. Mallory smiled at him but he didn't notice, so she lent forwards, edging closer and closer to the light without exposing herself and clicked it off. She rolled over and listened as he continued undressing in the dark and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Rumlow had given her that lily with the bug. Not only had he hacked into her phone conversations and emails, he had also earned her trust and her love. Everything that had felt so real, so intimate now made her skin crawl. She had eaten with him, kissed him, had sex with him. He had been inside her heart, in her head... influencing her life and decisions. She was in love with him. Even now, thinking about much she wanted him dead, she still loved him. She felt violated, betrayed, even more then she had when she had discovered Liam was cheating on her. At least Liam had betrayed her to his emotions... Rumlow had sold her out in the name of a corporation. The more she thought about it, the more upset she was getting. She was beginning to cry properly now, but she muffled her sobs into the pillow in the hope that the Soldier wouldn't hear her. Rumlow had been the one who said he loved her, Rumlow had moved in with her, Rumlow had tricked her into loving him.

Her plan hadn't worked. "Are you crying?" The Soldier asked her, sounding both disgusted and concerned.

Mallory shook her head. "No." Her voice betrayed her, wobbling all over the place. In a fluid movement he had switched the light on.

"Why are you crying?" He wasn't demanding to know, just asking quietly. She sat up on the bed, no longer caring whether or not he saw her in a bra. He himself wasn't wearing much, just those black sweatpants he always wore and no shirt. Mallory looked towards the wall, and found herself unable to look back at him.

"I hate this job." She confessed quietly. "I hate what I've done, I hate hearing about those missions. I hate Pierce, Rumlow, you. I hate what you've done." It came out of her in a vitriolic rage. She was consumed with hatred. She was so tired of this job. Looking after the Soldier as if he was her child, pleading with him not to kill people as if common human decency was so strange with him. She just wanted to go home and sleep.

"I thought you were dating Rumlow?"

Mallory laughed bitterly. "Nope. He's been spying on me. Did you know?"

The Soldier shook his head and despite her hatred, she believed it. He was a spy, an assassin, a despicable excuse for a human who had volunteered for this miserable existence yet she believed him.

"Well he planted a super-bug in my house. Listened to all of my conversations. And he's been more than likely getting me to love him so fucking Pierce could spy on me." _You don't know that for sure_. But it was obvious. It made sense. It also explained how he had known her favourite flower was a lily – her father had known, told Pierce who in turn told Rumlow to use the flower to hid the bug. That explained why her father had been so weird on that night at their parents dinner. _He had known. And he never said a word._

Her vision blurred with hot salty tears. Her stomach roiled and twisted, visions of Rumlow naked and Rumlow coming and Rumlow screaming her name dancing in her head. His hands felt like they were everywhere, submerging her skin into his flesh. She jumped out of the bed and into the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet in disgust. She felt violated, wanting to pour herself in bleach to scrub the stain he had left on her skin. She felt as if she had been marked by him, with teeth and saliva and semen and skin. Her body was racked with violent contortions and she couldn't breathe. Her sick was watery and when she had finally stopped vomiting, she spat the contents of her mouth into the sink.

She turned to see the Soldier kneeling beside her. He wasn't touching her but there was concern in his eyes amongst the vacant look.

"Could you get me some water?" She asked hollowly, ashamed that he had witnessed such an un-dignifying experience. He nodded once, and disappeared.

She lay on the cool tiled floor, the cold seeping into her bare back and thighs. Luckily her hair had been scraped back otherwise it would also be dripping vomit. She struggled to get her breath back. Her body was wrecked, along with her mind. There was weakness in her legs, her eyes, her head, her stomach.

"_Mallory! Oh God, baby… I was so worried about you.__" __Rumlow smelt like Rumlow, wood and musk and soap and just that clean smell she hadn't realized she had missed until it was right under her nose. "I missed you. I love you."_ All lies.

The Soldier returned. She took a mouthful and swished it around her mouth, then spat the contents into the bowl before flushing. As the vomit swirled down the drain, she sipped the rest of her water.

"You can't let them know that you know."

The amendment was so sudden that Mallory would've choked on her water if she hadn't already swallowed her. She remembered she was in a bra and panties and self-consciously folded her legs into herself as a chill settled into her bones.

"Why?" Her voice was cracked hoarse, with rage and tears.

"They were spying on you for a reason. If they know that you're aware, they might kill you." It was straight and too the point; so stereotypically Soldier that she couldn't help but smile.

"I need to talk to my dad." She said vaguely. "He must've known. He couldn't not know."

"Did you hear what I said?" Steel flitted into his tone and she deepened her gaze into a glare. "You can't let them know."

"My dad kept this from me... he'll tell me the truth."

"He might not." The Soldier spoke warningly. Mallory shrugged and stared forwards.

"I have to know." She practically moaned. "I have to know."

She sank backwards onto the cold tub behind her, tears falling down her cheeks but making so sound. The Soldier looked at her a moment, then sat down beside her.

And the two of them, the heartbroken doctor and the master assassin sat side by side as the dark light of the night turned into the gray stare of the morning, with Mallory finally falling asleep dreaming of the past.

A/N: I am halfway through exams and I had a week off to chill so you guys get a new chapter. It's great how life works out isn't it? I hope you've all had a wonderful day and thank you for your continuing patience and support


	13. Hail HYDRA

Mallory woke to darkness with a pain in her neck. A little dazed, Mallory raised herself to a standing position and looked in the mirror before realizing that this was not her bathroom in her apartment, she was freezing and Rumlow was a lying bastard. Waves of emotion crashed over her and she felt as if she was drowning under the force of knowledge; ignorance really was bliss.

She gripped the sink and bent over, breathing in through her nose deeply and out through her mouth. The events of the previous day flooded in. She tried desperately to banish it but Rumlow seemed to be everywhere. A tattoo, on her skin and on her heart.

But where was the Soldier? He seemed at the moment the only one of the three men in her life who was dependable which was saying something as he was an amnesiac assassin; her father had clearly known something about Rumlow's betrayal and of course, Rumlow wasn't trustworthy. The Soldier had stayed with her through the night even if his sympathies were silent as ever, she appreciated it. And now he was gone. She padded from the bathroom into the bedroom, where a scrawled note was atop his untouched bed:

_Pierce needed me_

Simple and straight to the point. His handwriting was half scrawled, and half neat as if he couldn't quite decide how to write it. Yet he had left her a note. _How civil. _The thought made her smile. She sat on the Soldier's bed and covered her forearms with her hands, feeling the chill of the morning. Although metal shutters covered the windows, Mallory felt like she could taste the fresh air of the morning and she knew it was somewhere between 4 am and five. The Soldier had sat with her, as she lay on the bathroom floor and vomited and cried like a little baby in her underwear and he never said a word. He seemed at present an anchor, keeping her still and steady.

Sighing, Mallory wiped her eyes and slid under his covers. There seemed something too imitate, too private about sleeping in his bed but that didn't stop her. She burrowed her face into his pillow, leaving mascara stains and tear tracks and the remnants of her runny nose and she inhaled so hard she almost breathed in the fabric. His smell filtered too her amongst the saltwater, and she couldn't quite describe the scent he had left behind. As she tried to decipher it, her eyelids grew heavy and she fell asleep for the second time that day with his scent circling in her head.

Dreams. Cold eyes staring at her softly, a weight against her waist and the taste of metal in her mouth.

The alarm clock had been set unknowingly, and it startled her awake at nine am with a constant bleeping that only stopped when she grabbed the clock and threw it against the wall. Mallory sat up and found herself wishing for sleep, her vision blurred as her eyelids seemed to glue themselves together with gummed up tears. But her head was clearer then ever and somehow, she had a plan detailed in her mind. She had to know if her father had known. Despite the Soldier's warning, she needed to know. If she had her mobile, she would've called Natasha for advice. But they had taken it off her, limiting her freedom to stilted conversations with the Soldier and the guards and a few of her favourite books. She slid out of bed, the moment of weakness where she had craved the Soldier's scent between herself and the bed.

Her suitcase was still in the living room. Unzipping the case, she searched through her bag for some appropriate outfit to wear to a lunch with her father. Somewhere casual she reckoned, but tucked away. That wouldn't arouse suspicions with HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D but private enough to warrant a conversation that would be unheard by both factions. She decided on blue jeans, a green t-shirt and left them on the bed as she showered, washed her hair and got rid of any evidence of the night before.

An hour later, she emerged from her shared bathroom smelling of strawberry shampoo and body spray, feeling better with her face made up and concealer caked under her eyes to hide the dark circles. She dressed and waited in the living room, pacing the creaking floorboards to work up the courage to call her father even though the guard from yesterday had assured her he would know. Did it matter? She mused to herself. She'd have to get clearance from them either way if she was leaving; they might not even let her go.

"This is ridiculous." She muttered to herself, walking over the phone and dialling her parents landline off by heart. It rang twice, her heart thudding in case the guard burst the door open and asked what the hell she was doing.

"Hello?" Her father's gruff voice answered, thankfully. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to stop herself from bursting into tears if her mother answered.

"Dad? It's Mallory." She waited tensely for his reaction.

"Mallory, sweetheart how are you phoning me? I thought you were in a safehouse-"

"They hooked me up to the landline." She had to control herself from blurting it out over the phone. "Can we meet? Somewhere for brunch?"

"Sweetie, I don't think-"

"I need to talk to you. About something. It's important." Her tone must've been urgent, as her father paused.

"Oh okay. Yes of course. Um whereabouts?"

Mallory had already located the perfect place in her mind; a pretty little French themed coffee shop next to park in the heart of D.C. It was private but not too private. Rumlow had taken her a few weeks ago which was ironic considering he would become the topic of conversation. She relayed the address to her dad. "You know where that is?"

"No but I have the satnav. I'll meet you there in half an hour." Her father was about to hang up but Mallory cleared her throat and addressed the agents.

"And to the agents listening, I'll expect you can escort me there and watch over me? That's if Pierce doesn't mind."

She seemed to wait an age before the voice of the agent who had been listening spoke.

"He said it's fine." It said, almost bored and sounding hurried. Then he hung up for them and Mallory stood in the cold apartment listening to the dialling tone.

Mallory was there first, entering the small store front that overlooked the park across the road, with two bulky agents in their versions of civilian clothing behind her. The coffee shop had waitresses but Mallory ordered at the register, watching as the two agents made themselves comfortable in a booth that overlooked the shop. But Mallory wasn't planning on sitting inside the shop – they had lovely outdoor seating on those beautiful but uncomfortable white chairs and tables outside. She ordered a black coffee for her father, and a hot chocolate for herself, her stomach having been empty for almost two days but she felt no need of hunger. As she carried the two white cups outside, the agents paled and realized they'd been fooled. But they couldn't move as the shop was jammed with people and it would look suspicious, and the only spaces were the tables outside. Mallory offered them an apologetic smile, pretending that it had been a misunderstanding that she was going to sit inside the shop and telling them they could still see her from inside.

She took her seat and put the coffee across from her, purposely seating herself with her back to the agents. Despite her sombre mood she couldn't help but smile as she had lost her tail, allowing her a certain amount of privacy to interrogate her father. She took a sip of the hot chocolate but it was too hot, burning her tongue and mouth so she settled it back onto her saucer and watched the sidewalk, eyes peeled for her father's car pulling in. She counted the minutes. One, two, three..

Her father's silver Jag pulled onto the sidewalk. He got out, locked the car and went to the parking meter. Once he had applied the ticket to the windshield, he raised his fist in a wave to her looking nervous. She waved back but steadied her gaze, her chair scraping back as she stood to greet him as he approached her. _Must look normal_. She wrapped her arms around her father. But her inner Soldier desperately wanted to punch his face in because it had been more than likely that he had known. They took their seats.

"I didn't think he'd let out of the apartment. Do you have security?"

Mallory turned and promptly fixed her gaze obviously onto the two agents in the booth inside. "They're a bit dull but hey, they do their job."

Her father laughed, taking a sip of coffee and running a hand through his black hair. "It's a lovely place." He looked around, at the maroon painted storefront with the stereotypical curly French script and the waitresses that navigated the tables holding plates of croissants, pain au chocolate and all sorts of pastries.

"Rumlow brought me here." She had tried to keep her tone light and airy, but there was a certain steel creeping in. "You remember Rumlow, right?"

Her father's smile became a tad fixed as he sipped his coffee.

"Of course. He's a good man..." He said vaguely, and Mallory bit back the urge to throw her hot chocolate in his face.

"A good man maybe." Her heart was thudding in her chest against her ribcage with excitement and nerves, as her opening had come. She placed her hands casually on the table and tried to keep calm. "But not a great boyfriend. Tell me, what type of man would put a bug in his girlfriends plant?"

Her father froze promptly, swallowing the coffee in his mouth and looking downright terrified. He shifted in his seat and ran a hand through his hair.

"Mallory-"

"You knew didn't you?" His silence was enough. "Of course you knew. Did you know the entire time or did Pierce spring it on you?"

His voice was low but he was panicking. "It was Pierce's idea. But I chose Rumlow-"

She laughed hollowly, feeling herself getting more and more overwhelmed as he began to drip feed her information. "I bet you did. Tell me everything."

"Sweetheart, please, I can't."

Mallory shook her head, leaning back in the chair. "I have a right to know. Please just tell me Dad. I want to know."

Her father bit his lip and looked away from her. He looked upset; the guilt overtaking him or the fact that she had found out? She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure who he was anymore. That man that had lied to her about Rumlow and god knows what else certainly wasn't the man who had raised her.

"Answer my question first."

Mallory couldn't believe him. "What?" Her voice crackled horribly.

Her father reached forward and took her hands in his comfortingly, but she tore them away. He looked hurt but he didn't raise a question."How did you find out? Did Rumlow tell you or...?"

Her lower lip wobbled. "Nobody told me. It was by accident. I smashed the plant pot by mistake and found the broken bug. He didn't betray you."

Her father was shaking. She was shaking. She needed comfort, a hug or a touch but from the right person. If her father had have tried to hug her properly to apologize for his mistakes Mallory was afraid she'd do something uncharacteristically violent. All she wanted, oddly, was the Soldier. His cool eyes would steady her nerves and he wouldn't even need to touch her. Despite her current confusion at their relationship – she was still so angry at him for Kohl but most of that anger was directed at Pierce – she did like him and she was ninety percent sure he did care for her in his own silent way. She just needed to talk to him, get his judgment of the situation.

"You want to know everything?"

Mallory nodded.

"If Pierce finds out I've told you-"

"He won't." She spoke calmer now, the mention of Pierce cooling her rage at her father and switching it to hatred of Pierce. "I won't tell him and neither will you and those guards can't hear us."

Her father nodded, nodding to himself. "Okay, okay. Just don't react and don't say anything until I'm finished."

He took a sip of coffee to steady his nerves then took a breath before speaking.

"Look it wasn't my idea. It was Pierce's. I was the one who suggested he hire you and when you started asking questions – about why Pierce had hired the Soldier to Reznak – well Pierce didn't like that. He asked me if your loyalty was unquestionable and when I replied it needed to be earned, he thought of a solution. He knew you were single through me and thought if maybe he created the perfect man who believed in HYDRA with no doubts, then maybe you would as well."

"At first, he wanted to make the Soldier love you. He thought maybe your caring nature and the amount of time you'd spend with him and how you're a lot younger then his last doctor might appeal to him and allow Pierce some leverage over him if he suddenly started remembering his past life. But the guy is totally unlovable, a monster, incapable of feelings except rage that it didn't work. And we couldn't force the feelings from you- they had to be genuine. We were watching you the first time you two met, and we saw how he took practically no notice of you apart from a professional interest."

"So we brainstormed. I told them all about Liam and how much you loved him. And then Rumlow-" Mallory's fists tightened at his name. "-came into our office with news about some trivial thing and I just saw Pierce's eyes light up. And he asks Rumlow if he's single and when he says he is, Pierce outlines the plan and Rumlow agrees to it. We put him in position driving you to and from work, and I just knew you'd like him. He's a good guy."

Mallory couldn't help herself, her tone laced with sarcasm and venom. "Oh he's swell. Really great guy."

"Sweetie-"

Mallory held up a hand to silence him. "Don't even bother."

"So we got you both together. Some of the Rumlow you saw was a little faked – the plastic lily, the idea for the carnival but everything else was genuine I swear. And then once I knew you really did like him, I let Rumlow take over and you two progressed so naturally. There was sometimes I believed that Rumlow did genuinely love you – he spoke of you highly enough and _God_, the man was weighed down with his guilt at how you two had met. He does wish it was in different circumstances." Her father's gaze hardened on her. "He told me that night at dinner when we were in the kitchen. He loves you."

She was unforgiving. "He doesn't. He can't."

Her father was using a let's-be-reasonable tone she recognized so horribly from her childhood. "Sweetie you can't spend six months with someone and not grow to be fond of them. He used to report to Pierce and tell him of all your encounters together in the early days, but after a while he started keeping your encounters private, telling us only what we needed to know. He used to always smile when you texted him, and when we saw you at that dinner I saw how worried he was when you had that panic attack. At dinner, he begged me not to say anything when the mission was officially over, that he was going to tell you in his own time."

All she could hear was more reasons to hate him."When was the mission supposed to end?"

"In a few weeks. Pierce believed that after your month absence, you had taken HYDRA into your heart. The mission would end and Pierce would issue orders for Rumlow to break up with you or act so terrible you would break up with him. But he told me he was going to keep things going and tell you the truth, and see how you'd react then go from there." Her father took her hands again and this time she didn't snatch them away, needing comfort even if it was from the wrong person. "HYDRA was _everything _to Brock before he met you."

Mallory had started crying softly during his speech, her vision blurring. She'd had the sense to put on waterproof mascara before she left the house. "I thought he loved me."

"He does."

Mallory wanted to believe that but she couldn't; a small nagging doubt in her mind that Rumlow didn't even like her was winning. "Please don't tell him anything. I need to see him, and talk to him. When he gets back from the hunt."

Her father dropped her hands. "Hunt? What do you know about that?"

Mallory wiped her eyes with her now free hands and eyed her father, realizing she'd slipped up. "Nothing-"

"Sweetie... do you know what's been going on?" Her father had stopped trying to convince her of Rumlow's love and now sounded worried.

"No." Since she was being honest, she decided to add. "I know that Rumlow's looking for Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. I don't know why though, and neither did Nat when I called her."

"You've been in contact with them? Since when did you know Natasha Romanoff? What did you speak about? Did she tell you were they were?" Her father was shocked, shaking again but with nerves. Why was he nervous?

Mallory found herself laughing, still wiping her eyes. "God, Dad chill with the questions. I met her a few days ago by chance. We hit it off, and I called her yesterday and she just said that I should get out of S.H.I.E.L.D."

It did nothing to soothe his nerves. "So she doesn't know? You didn't say anything did you? About the Soldier or HYDRA?"

"No... I signed an injunction, remember? I can't say a damn thing even if I wanted too."

Her father lent back in his chair, sighing. It was clear that Mallory had information that if she wished to reveal to Natasha, it would ruin him. But what? He couldn't actually believe she'd tell Natasha about HYDRA and the Winter Soldier project? And even if she did what would be the big deal about it? HYDRA was just a branch of S.H.I.E.L.D and the Winter Soldier project, if she excluded the business with Kohl and Oswick, was doing good so she was told.

"I think you should get back." Her father amended, his tone leaving no room for her to argue. "Those guards are getting restless."

They both stood and her father took her hands again.

"I'm sorry Mallory. I should've told you."

Mallory shrugged, drained emotionally. "Yeah you should. But you are my dad, and I can't hate you forever. This doesn't mean I forgive you right now, or I've forgotten."

He laughed once, and pulled her into a hug; despite every nerve crying out for her to slam him into the table like the Soldier had taught her, she found herself dumbly hugging him back. He took the close proximity to almost hiss in her ear.

"Don't contact Natasha again; let Rumlow do his job. They won't be killed, just taken into custody I swear. And give Rumlow a chance, eh?" Her father laughed once then took a breath before saying. "Hail HYDRA, sweetie."

Mallory froze, her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, her voice stuck into her throat. She wasn't sure if it was a question, or a statement, or a command. All she knew was that the admission that had came from her father's mouth terrified her, and she knew she had to respond somehow.

It seemed like an age, but only a moment's hesitation had passed before she shakily said. "Hail HYDRA."

She stepped back and grinned at her father, feeling as if she had sold herself out.

As Mallory stepped back into the apartment, something was different. Two of Rumlow's STRIKE agents stood at the door and for a moment Mallory almost thought Rumlow was standing in the back ready to tackle her over her conversation with her father. Then she relaxed as she noticed the Soldier sitting calmly on the sofa.

Then she tensed again as Pierce was sitting on the opposite side of the sofa to him.

"Ah Mallory you're here. We've been waiting for you." He patted the space that was left between him and the Soldier. "How is your father?"

Mallory swallowed, trying not to feel nervous as she took her seat and kicked her shoes off attempting to be casual. "He's very well, thank you sir."

She glanced over at the Soldier, eyes wild with alarm but he merely turned his head to glance at her, and shrug ever so slightly. Mallory turned her head back to Pierce and smiled as friendly as she could manage in these troubling times.

"Has the threat you spoke of been dissolved yet?"

Pierce's smile became a little fixed. "Not yet, but we're close. Your boyfriend-" Mallory's body tightened at the mention of Rumlow's relationship with her and she felt the Soldier shifting behind her. The thought of him comforted her, and her smile became more relaxed and genuine and to Pierce she hoped she looked every inch of the lovesick women she was supposed to be.

"- is very good at his job but this one will take him some time. But I didn't come here for that." His shark-like eyes narrowed on her and he smiled in a grandfatherly way. "I came to ask if you'd be prepared to go out in the field again."

Mallory's heart stopped. She had believed she was done for the day with emotions but instead the deep depression that had been plaguing her for days, fear struck her heart and sent it galloping like a wild horse. Her throat tightened as she tried to swallow down the lump that had so horribly formed, and somewhere she believed she was back in the prison again, the cool drought blowing across her skin and the sound of Ariadne's birthing screams masking the silence. _No no please don't make me go back there please no._

As if sensing her panic, the Soldier moved. Her coping mechanism, she thought as she felt a hand press against her back as her body began to shake a little. Shockwaves sent through her skin and she could feel a dog's leg clamping onto her calf, although she noted he was using his human hand not his cybernetic one. He squeezed her flesh gently, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to sting. She knew what he was doing; giving her pain to remind her she was here, not in the past. He had given her her most quiet need; not to come undone in front of Pierce or show weakness and as much as she could dislike him she was intensely grateful. The pressure of his hand left her and she felt herself relax a little.

The entire thing lasted merely seconds, but not for the first time today it had felt like an age. Pierce had no registered either of the movements but he had sensed her panic as he became a little alarmed. "Now I know last time was hard for you. But this time, I swear, there will be teams to protect you. There is no way you will be harmed."

"But what about the no-fieldwork clause in my contract?" Her voice was trembling, and just above a whisper. Pierce smiled.

"I never got around to writing it in the first place, Miss Smith. I swear once you've done this little thing for me, I won't ask you to go in the field again."

Mallory's head was swirling. Despite being grounded back to the present by the Soldier, she still could feel a million questions. What was she doing? Why couldn't he send someone else, why her? Why did Pierce need her with the Soldier out in the field?

"What... what do you need me to do sir?"

"Rumlow has called in the asset." He nodded his head towards the Soldier, who looked away. "And our targets have kidnapped Sitwell, so we need a response team out there ASAP."

Mallory shook her head. "But why do you need me? I'm just a doctor."

"There's going to be causalities." It was a vague explanation.

There was something in his tone that suggested she didn't have a choice. So she tried to keep calm, fearing that if she opened her mouth to say yes she would fall short of words and hit him, or cry again. She nodded once, and Pierce looked delighted and Mallory suddenly felt as if she was becoming the HYDRA agent they'd always wanted her to be.

They dressed her in black combats, the same boots she'd worn in the Russian prison and a simple black camisole with a black jacket not unlike the one the Soldier was wearing. They weaved in and out of cars on the highway, Mallory feeling uncomfortable in her seat in the back surrounded by large men with big rifles. A black bag filled with useful and expensive items was beside her, filled with everything to prolong treatment from everything to a heart attack to a simple laceration yet on her thigh was strapped a small handgun. The Soldier had done it, quietly assuring her that the recoil was steady enough for her and despite it's size, the firepower was marvellous. She still protested, with him ignoring her and insisting it was for her own protection as he wouldn't be able to keep her safe when they were out there. She still wasn't sure even if in a life or death situation she'd be able to shoot someone.

The Soldier rode beside her, strapped to the teeth with guns of all shapes and sizes and makes, and knives hidden in every space he could fit them. He rode in silence as always, his mask and glasses obscuring his face and any chance of identification with the men. He looked terrifying when he was suited, a truly faceless assassin. It was easier to convince herself that he was human when he was wearing his sweatpants or looking pale or when he'd been asleep in the prison. However, when he wore that armour which displayed his cybernetic arm and hid his sometimes calm, sometimes menacing stare he seemed every bit of the robot he could be.

The men had made eyes at her, a little confused to why a small and soft looking woman was coming along for the ride to capture Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers. They didn't say anything to her – she knew they could speak English as Pierce had exchanged words with them – but she saw them watching her and she heard a few words in Russian which just felt like they were talking about her. The Soldier's fist clenched and unclenched as they spoke amongst themselves and when the biggest dirtiest looking man looked at her and said something, the Soldier stood and walked over to him. There was a moment silence, where Mallory jumped up. The Soldier turned his head to her, gaze unreadable under the glasses and Mallory pleaded with him.

"Don't."

He ignored her. The man was lifted with his cybernetic arm, and he smashed him against the wall of the van, denting it with the weight of his body.

"_Вы называете ее шлюха когда-либо снова, и я буду копировать ваши чертовы зубы из вашего черепа. Понять_?" The Soldier hissed, and the man whimpered something back as his arm strangled him out. Eventually, the Soldier let go and returned back to his seat, acting as if he couldn't hear the man coughing and spluttering on the floor. Mallory sighed and toyed with the catch that prevented the handgun from falling out of her thigh holster, flicking it up and down to pass the time. She glanced at the Soldier, who acted as if none of what had just happened had come to pass and stared ahead determinedly.

"I see the car." The driver at the front yelled, his words practically hidden by his heavy Russian accent. The Soldier nodded, then stood and opened the door.

Wind entered as the car whistled past from the highway, and the air stung her eyes. She held her arm up as if she was being attacked by an invisible being and found herself yelling over the wind.

"Are you crazy?" She yelled at him, as he seemed to ready himself to throw himself onto the highway out of a moving vehicle. "You'll die!"

The Soldier turned to look at her, than proved her wrong by jumping onto the roof. Mallory stood for a moment, hands tightening around a metal bar to keep her balance upright in the wind, stunned, then she leapt forwards to slam the door shut.

She staggered down the causeway between the men, and peered out of the windshield where she watched the Soldier's footsteps cross across the front of the car and _leap onto the car in front. _

"What is he doing?!" She didn't realized she'd said it allowed when the driver, a short stocky man with burns all across his knuckles, laughed.

"He's a crazy motherfucker." The man seemed to find it hilarious, taking one hand of the wheel to get rid of the building ash on his cigarette.

Mallory climbed into the passenger seat beside him to watch as the Soldier used the rushing cars on the highway as lily pads, leaping from car to car like a frog. Then, he steadied himself on a silver car, full of what Mallory could make out to be a family who were screaming at the sight of the Soldier on top of their bonnet and jumped on top of another car. She squinted again and made out the colour and make – a blue Chevrolet. Mallory assumed he'd jump to another car but instead he smashed his cybernetic fist through the window and pulled a man wearing a suit out, who had a short moment to scream for mercy before the Soldier tossed him into traffic.

Mallory's mouth had fallen open. The callous way he'd just disposed of the man as if he was nothing reminded her completely of the way he'd shot Kohl. She and the driver exchanged shocked looks – apparently he had never seen this coming either and had to quickly put his fallen cigarette in his mouth in case it burnt his pants – and watched with a muted horror as the Soldier pulled out a gun and began firing on the Chevrolet to kill the passengers within. She squinted. She could make out three figures in the car, a driver, a passenger, and someone in the back seat. She had assumed the people in the car were Romanoff and Rogers but if so, who was the third man? And the man whom the Soldier had just killed? Mallory remembered Pierce mentioning that they had kidnapped someone called Sitwell. If so, was that the man who had been tossed out of the car? Or was that the man who was still in the car?

The questions were piling up and she had no answers for them. Mallory shook her head and focused on the action in front of her. The Soldier was still shooting but the people in the blue car had the sense to jam the brakes to get him off their roof and maybe even kill him. With any normal human it would've worked but as this was the Soldier, he merely adjusted his stance and flipped in the air, landing on his feet and using his cybernetic arm to absorb the shock and slow him down. Despite their distance, the screech of the metal against tarmac was deafening, and Mallory winced as the sound reverberated through their vehicle.

The driver jolted as if he'd been asleep. "BRACE YOURSELVES!" He yelled to the men in the back, then repeated the command in Russian in case anybody hadn't learnt English. He turned his head to her.

"You better put your seat belt on." He threw the cigarette he'd been smoking out of the window and placed both hands on the wheel.

Mallory was still shocked but found the strength to glare at him. "What?"

He didn't answer, merely revving the engine and speeding up considerably. If he didn't slow down they were going to ram the back of the blue car. _That's the point. _The realization dawned on her and she took his advice, hurriedly attaching her seat belt and bracing herself for the impact as their vehicle zoomed its way across the highway.

The impact came and the vehicle jolted forwards horribly and Mallory had a horrible moment where she believed the van was going to flip. Instead, the blue car in front anchored the van in place and before she knew it the driver was using the vehicle to take control of the car and drive the now slightly crumpled blue car as well.

Now that she was closer she could see the passengers vaguely; the driver was a young black man who seemed to be panicking as his head was flipping side to side, and the two people in the passenger seat were Romanoff and Rogers, identified by their hair. It seemed the redhead was perched in his lap for protection. Mallory gripped the dashboard and pushed herself back into the seat, as the Russian driver picked up speed. She wanted to tell him to stop, that they'd perhaps hurt the people when they were only supposed to take them into custody when she saw the Soldier standing in the road almost calmly. He was standing tall, in full view of the two cars and if the driver didn't stop they were going to hit him.

"You have to stop." Mallory pleaded, as the figure of the Soldier grew larger and larger through the window.

"No can do." He revved the engine harder, and half of his mouth curled into an unpleasant grin.

"You're going to hit him!"

The moment had arrived. He didn't stop. Mallory was about to unclasp her belt and take the wheel from him when she watched the Soldier jump with perfect timing. Relief coursed through her veins, and she returned her hands to her lap. Then he lay on the roof of the blue car in front, and their driver attempted to do something about it by braking. It didn't work – her driver merely revved harder and made the blue car go even faster.

The Soldier clambered across the front and punched the windshield in, and before she knew it he was tossing a large circular thing across the highway. _The steering wheel?_ Mallory then heard gunshots coming from the blue car; she peered into the window and witnessed Natasha firing towards the roof. The Soldier heard them too, as he leapt from the blue car to Mallory's van to get out of the way.

She lent forwards and knocked on the windshield, mouthing _are you alright?_ – he nodded to say he was then gripped the roof of the van. The vehicle containing their targets managed to gain some speed but the van driver, a talented man who was aching for a cigarette quickly managed to ram the blue into the side of the road. Mallory was so glad he'd had the sense to warn her and strap herself in. She peered into the car as the blue car driver tried to stay balanced, trying to assess if anybody was hurt. Then to her horror, the driver of the Chevrolet lost total control and the car flipped.

It was like slow motion, watching the blue car tumble and flip across the highway. Mallory's heart jumped up through her throat and stopped dead; were they dead? Had the Soldier fulfilled his target? As it turned on it's side, the passenger door opened and the three skidded away on the door across the highway. A surreal moment, but one that made Mallory slump in her seat with relief and make her glad that someone in the car had been quick thinking enough to get somewhere safe before it capsized.

The blue car was totaled but the survivors were safe, the driver rolling on the highway and Romanoff and Rogers coming to a calm stop in the middle of the road.

"What now?" Mallory questioned her driver, as he screeched to a stop near the edge of the highway. The Soldier was only sent on missions to execute people but surely he wouldn't do it in full view of civilians on a highway? And surely Pierce wouldn't make her watch?

The driver merely shrugged and ignored her question. "Get your bag. You'll need it."

A bang on the windshield indicated the Soldier had gotten down, and the men were moving in the back, the door opening and a huge grenade launcher being passed to the Soldier. Mallory staggered down the causeway and grabbed her bag, opening the door and jumping out just in time to watch the Soldier steady his arm and fire. Her heart slowed as did time, and Mallory could hear nothing of the cars whizzing past to get free of the blast zone nor the men yelling commands behind her in an unrecognizable tongue. She could hear her own swallow and a short, sharp intake of her own breath as the Soldier calmly watched as the projectile flew towards the Widow and the Captain with deadly intent.

A/N: This chapter was so easy to write. Things I've been planning for a while are beginning to come to fruition. Big thanks to everyone who faves, follows and reviews. You guys really inspire me

Also the chapter title – I just couldn't help myself


	14. Battle Fever

There was an awful split second of a moment she believed the projectile would hit them. They both just seemed to stand there. Mallory started forwards, unsure of what she was going to do, maybe wrench the launcher from the Soldier's hands so he couldn't fire again or scream for them to move.

Then the Captain pushed Natasha who was standing right beside him, and she hightailed it to the right, her powerful legs carrying her as fast as they could to clear the blast radius. The Captain had no time so he raised his shield and the projectile impacted upon the metal. The shield was damn near indestructible but the energy wasn't absorbed all too well, as the Captain was thrown over the edge of the highway onto the road below. A second later, she heard the crash and shattering of glass, a truck beeping and then a collision of two vehicles. Mallory ran to the edge of the highway as the men began filing out of the green van and witnessed a bus turned on its side and injured people groaning, cries for help and screams of civilians.

Mallory was caught in the midst of it all and she wasn't even aware what was going on really. Why was the Soldier trying to kill two people who were meant to be custody? Where was Rumlow, the STRIKE agents? Why had Pierce, a government sanctioned official heading a powerful organization with teams that specialized in this type of things, using mercenaries to capture two S.H.I.E.L.D agents?

It didn't add up. It never added up. But right now there was injured people down on the floor and Mallory needed to get down there to help. She recalled Pierce mentioning that they'd be casualties but not on this scale; how could she treat all of the survivors with a simple bag? And she actually needed to get down there. She'd noticed the men had climbing equipment but until they used it there was no way she could get down there without seriously injuring herself. And if she doubled back down onto the highway, that would eat into valuable time for the survivors.

Feeling powerless, she turned back to the scene in front of her. The men lead by the Soldier were raining a storm of bullets upon the driver and the Widow, who had both ran for cover behind cars that had been abandoned by civilians. The Widow was firing back, but her gun seemed miniscule compared to the massive assault rifles the men were carrying. They quickly destroyed the vehicle the driver was hiding behind, forcing him to look for cover elsewhere.

The Soldier cocked his gun and continued walking, steadying his aim and firing another projectile towards Natasha. She jumped over the ramp onto the next lane and ran into the path of oncoming cars, which she rolled and tucked to avoid. Mallory's breath was caught in her throat as she stood behind the line of men and the Soldier. The men followed her with the barrels of her weapons, she being the priority target now that Steve was down below and immobilized and the driver not being on the list of people to exterminate. Sheets of bullets followed Nat wherever she went. She ran down the highway into the path of a silver car, and the Soldier calculated this and fired another projectile to blow it up. Mallory started forwards again, nervously peering into the fog to see if she was still there or down on the ground. When the smoke cleared, she was gone.

The Soldier, face still unreadable, lowered his weapon and walked down the line of men, accepting their gift of a smaller assault rifle. He walked over to the edge of the highway, anticipating that Natasha had been smart enough to survive and scanned through the barrel this way and that as a semi sort of silence fell across the air. Mallory peered over the edge as well, her eyes calculating survivors on the bus crash and seeing how people were helping each other free themselves from the debris. A few people were attempting to contact the authorities on their cells but found no signal. Mallory guessed Pierce had pulled his authoritative weight and gotten cell towers switched off.

A bullet came out of nowhere, shocking Mallory into pulling back from the edge. It hit the intended target, the Soldier in the face. If it weren't for the glasses and mask, he'd be seriously hurt. Mallory peered over the edge and saw Natasha had used the shadows to get herself into a prime position to shoot at the Soldier, catching him off guard. A master assassin indeed. She fired more times, but the Soldier had ducked and tossed his broken glasses across the highway. The sight of his eyes, murderous rage but also determination, scared Mallory even more. He moved quicker then she'd ever seen him, and fired a volley of bullets down below, not really aiming anywhere.

Natasha had covered herself again, and fired back as he reloaded. This time, he aimed with more proficiency and hit the car beside her hoping the bullets would ricochet. Natasha then took a moment and Mallory saw recognition in her eyes; amongst the men in black, Mallory didn't really stand out as she was wearing black and she'd tied her hair into a bun. From a distance she'd look like one of them. But now she had realized that Mallory was part of the men and Mallory saw hurt and confusion mingling across her features in the sun. Mallory approached the barrier apologetically, hoping to shout something down when the men suddenly joined in to the Soldier's assault and Natasha decided to move.

He said something to the man beside him but Mallory could only hear the language filtered through his mask. Then he hopped over the balcony and landed calmly onto the car below before swaggering across the road. The men exchanged some glances, Mallory stared.

The men began to get their own climbing equipment ready, anchoring themselves in the car behind them. Mallory found the driver who had crashed the blue vehicle, as he smoked a cigarette and readied his own climbing gear.

"I'm coming down with you." She commanded, walking forwards to grab the man on the arm. He shook her off, laughing.

"No, no, you stay up here-"

She was overwhelmed, with anger and a desire to save the people down there that she grabbed his forearm harder, squeezing his skinny bicep through his thick jacket and squeezed. He yelped and she nipped harder, causing him to squeal in a way that was unbecoming of a man of his size, look and stature.

"There are people down there that need my help! If you don't drop me with you, so help me God I will throw myself over that barrier to get to them."

He sized her up, trying to guess if she was bluffing or not. She wasn't crazy – of course she wouldn't jump over the freeway barrier and plunge to certain death. But apparently she was looking so wild eyed, and so earnest that he stubbed his cigarette out under his thick heels and grumbled something in Russian before anchoring his cleaver in the car and unwinding the thick black rope.

"Stay close to me and for Chrissake don't move"

He approached her quickly, attaching the rope to a hidden hook around his waist and then suddenly grabbed her. She yelped, struggling with him momentarily as a cloud of cigarette smoke and dirt enveloped her with his grip.

"I'm sure I don't have to be that close to you." Mallory groaned.

The man laughed. "Safety first."

He approached the edge then stepped up to stand on it. As he wrenched her to his level and clasped her to his chest, she realized about a millisecond before he was going to do it what he was going to do. Regret stabbed her in the heart. She had a second to judge the distance and a thought of _oh my god it's so high why is it so high _flashed through her mind before he grunted, circled her waist with his arm and jumped.

They were in freefall. She tightened her arms around his neck, her grip on both him and her medical bag turning her knuckles white, and burrowed her face into the cracked leather and smell of smoke so she wouldn't see the world pass by in a blur. The sensation of having nothing flat and stable supporting your feet was like going a roller coaster with your legs dangling out – a sickening feeling of impending death and pure fear covering you in a cold sweat. The rope whirred as it passed through the hook and she was afraid it would keep going to not absorb any of the impact.

Then suddenly it tightened and pulled them back up slightly, taking their weight as they hit the ground. It still hurt, but the shock was absorbed by her boots and the sturdiness of the soles allowed only the slightest discomfort to pass through her. She yanked herself away from him immediately, and took off running towards the bus to help people.

It was a bad idea, as seconds later the men came down and began firing on the bus as if they were intending to kill civilians. Mallory yelped and swore loudly, and dived for cover behind it amidst shards of glass and trails of blood, her bag filled with useful and expensive utensils abandoned in the middle of the road to become target practice for the men. _Fuck_. She backed up against the metal in fear and found herself debating whether to not to pull the handgun out of the cache. She swore again and kicked at the bus, venting her growing frustration at her own stupid nice nature when suddenly the whir of what sounded like a lawn mower began and some idiot fired a volley of high intensity bullets from a massive gun.

Mallory had to move otherwise she'd become mincemeat in seconds. Civilians that were still caught in the crossfire were running up the road, so Mallory swallowed fear and hesitation and took off after them.

Glass shattered and she glanced over her shoulder as she ran, seeing the blur of a man rolling on the tarmac and brandishing a shield painted with the colours of the American flag. _Steve_. She stopped running and turned, wondering if she could offer the Captain any useful advice to defeat the men when she realized she was with them. He wouldn't trust her. And anyway, he was adept on his own. He ran towards the man with the big lawn mower gun and flipped over his head, smashing the mans face against the windshield. Mallory found a smile dripping onto her face – the Captain could defeat anybody – but it disappeared almost immediately when she noticed a young boy around four or five years old in the middle of the road wailing for his mother with a large gash on his forehead.

Mallory ran forwards with no hesitation, still panting from her previous attempt to sprint up the road and grabbed the boy. He wailed as her arms encircled him, her arms tightening instinctively around him as she ran up the road. She felt better at the sight of a police car screeching towards her but the satisfaction was brief as someone fired a projectile at it, blowing it up.

The sky rained with debris and she put the boy down, shielding his body with her own from the heat of the flames and the smoke. As she turned, she saw the familiar sight of the Soldier swaggering up the highway reloading the grenade launcher filled her with anger. He could've killed the boy. He could've killed her.

His eyes were free to gaze at her critically. "Get out of here before you get hurt." He hissed at her, and amidst the noise of the gunfire and screams of civilians she could hear him perfectly.

"You almost killed us! Stop!"

He ignored her, passing the burning police car and her and the boy as if he hadn't seen them. Mallory's eyes burned and teared up with smoke – at least that's what she was sticking with. The boy wailed suddenly, so she knelt to his level.

"What's your name?" She kept her tone light and airy, cupping his face and turning it to her so he wouldn't look at the flames or the charred corpse of the driver.

He was a mess, hiccuping and sobbing, a dirtied face and a worrying gash across his forehead. "A-Andrew."

She had dealt with frightened children before, on her shifts in the emergency unit. Their mothers drilled into them about the dangers of talking to strange people but also that people with authority – doctors, or nurses or policemen – were good and helped fight the bad people. It was easy to soothe a child who was screaming about his broken leg but usually their mothers were right beside them for the consultation. But this was a little different. How could she soothe a child who was so worryingly injured and heartbreakingly upset who had lost his parents either because they were dead or they had ran off and accidentally abandoned him?

She smoothed back his hair and smiled. "Hi Andrew. I'm Mallory, okay? I'm a doctor. I'm gonna help you find your mom, okay?"

He could barely speak due to his choking sobs. "S-she said for me to stay there but the men were s-shooting-"

"Andrew?"

The child focused on her, and nodded once.

"Andrew, your mom is not going to be angry with you, okay? She will completely understand." The child nodded again, a half-sob breaking through his throat. "I will find your mom. I just need you to do everything I say. You have to be brave. Can you be brave for me?"

He hesitated, glancing frightened at the fire, then nodded. She swallowed tightly and attempted a smile, before standing and taking his sweaty hand to start running through the streets. She dragged him to the footpath, as civilians slip streamed past them and ran ahead. People abandoned their cars as the sight of the Soldier with his gun raised caused fear. He was in his world, on the hunt for an unsuspecting Romanoff who seemed to have vanished in midair.

As the Soldier slowed Mallory tried to keep ahead of him on the footpath, continually glancing back to see if he had changed course. He knelt by a large car – Mallory slowed on the sidewalk and peered at him. What was he doing?

A small silver ball rolled its way towards the footpath near Mallory and when she peered at the cars rims, she saw a phone playing an audio file of Romanoff speaking. She hid a smile. Natasha would have to teach her how to think like that on the spot.

Then she remembered the gadget – a David invention, a small and powerful explosion and grabbed Andrew's hand, hauling him down the footpath. Seconds as they cleared the blast, the silver ball erupted into flame and sent the leftovers of the car into the air. Heat licked the back of her neck, and she heard Andrew yelp with surprise as the ground rumbled and shook. Mallory looked back and saw Romanoff had made an appearance, grappling with the Soldier against a car, her legs locked around him.

As no cars were coming down the road, Mallory pulled Andrew into the road and they slowed to a jog as most of the shooters were still behind them. People were still panicking, racing past her in blind fear. She asked Andrew his surname, and started calling his name amongst the noise and hysteria of the crowds.

"Andrew Wright!" She hoped she was yelling loud enough for people to hear. "Andrew Wright!"

"MOM! DAD!" The boy added his own yells, clasping Mallory's hand tightly and using his free hand to wipe the blood that was dripping on his nose. Mallory stopped him and tore a cuff off his long sleeves, wiping the thick blood off and checking to see if any debris had entered the wound.

People had gathered where the highway melted into the city, and amongst the screaming others were calling out names. It seemed the best place to try and find his parents, as Mallory guessed they couldn't of gone far. In the distance, she could sirens, ambulances and police hopefully. She hoped the death toll wouldn't be too high. She hoped the little boy could find him mom.

"Andrew Wright!"

A woman approached the pair, graying hair wearing filthy white trousers and torn flowery blouse. She looked shaken but seemed relatively unharmed.

"Andy?"

At the sound of her voice, the boy looked around then freed himself from Mallory, running towards the woman and jumping. The woman caught him, starting to sob incoherently. A man in a blue polo shirt approached the pair and hugged them. Mallory smiled, pleased to have reunited the family when the father assessed their rescuer and noticed Mallory dressed like the shooters and carrying a gun. Her face fell, as he placed himself in front of his family protectively and began to yell.

"No! I'm not with them-" But she was. Just because she hadn't actually fired a round didn't mean she wasn't with them. She had come with them and knew what they were going to do and had the means to stop it. The boy was beginning to droop healthwise and it was her fault. Pierce had said that the civilian population was going to be injured and despite her reluctance to partake in such an activity she had still gone along with it.

"Stay away from my son!" The woman declared tearfully, before taking her son and rushing off through the crowd. The husband spat at her feet, and followed.

Tears stung in her eyes, a shallow phrase of sorrow curtailed on her lips. I_ was only trying to help. _She was weighed down, with guilt and apologies that she'd never get to say. This was all her fault.

A clang of metal brought her back to her senses. Before she knew it, she had unclasped the catch on her handgun and had it in her hands, moving back the way she came and zigzagging between the cars until she spotted the Soldier, doing battle with the Captain. Gunshots filtered into her hearing, and she broke into a sprint as she headed to their battlefield.

A groan alerted her to Natasha, slumped by a car, having been shot by the Soldier. Mallory clasped the handgun back to her thigh and knelt by the redhead.

"Who- what-" She was confused, dazed, shocked. Mallory swore and sweeped her hair away from her face, assessing the wound. The bullet had plugged the majority of the blood in limiting the blood loss but a trickle was still staining her skin red.

"It's Mallory." She attempted a weak smile. "I won't be able to do much but I can keep you awake till the ambulance arrives."

Natasha shook her head with determination, then groaned. "I need to – oh _fuck _it didn't hurt like this last time – get him."

Then with the mention of the Soldier, Natasha suddenly tried to get up then suddenly groaned again.

"Nat, you're gonna make it worse-"

"You were with him." She said suddenly. "On the bridge. I saw you."

Mallory's mouth opened and closed, and she tried to help Natasha to sit down again.

"I- uh… Pierce said he was only going to arrest you. He didn't say anything about -" Mallory gestured around, to the burning cars, the smoldering ruins of the road and the crying of civilians. "- this."

Natasha looked at her, her green eyes ablaze with absolute fury then said with a sudden realization, "You're HYDRA. You belong to HYDRA, don't you? That's why you have direct contact with Pierce, and why I couldn't find you on the database. You're one of them."

"There is no them and us, Nat. HYDRA is part of S.H.I.E.L.D-"  
"Are you stupid? Are you seriously that stupid? God." Natasha laughed harshly, then glared at her. "Did no one tell you? HYDRA are the enemy. You are the enemy."

Tears stung her once again, and Mallory found herself with a sinking dread agreeing with her.

"I don't- I didn't know, I- Nat please let me help you-"

"Get the hell out of here, before I kill you."

"Nat-"  
"I mean it Mallory!"

She believed it. She believed it intensely, that Natasha would kill her for being a part of HYDRA. And although she had sworn an oath to stay with those who needed help, and although she was intensely frightened Natasha's wound would become septic and she'd die, she got up and left her.

She saw the Soldier and the Captain having an evenly matched and high paced fight. She was useless. This was useless. She backed away, following the fight with intensity wondering who had the upper hand if anyone had the upper hand when Steve flipped the Soldier onto the ground.

Of course he landed on his feet. But a small black thing lay on the ground; his mask. His mask had fallen. Mallory stepped forward, squinting. Steve could've easily had the Soldier dead as he steadied himself but it seemed the Captain was eager to finally face his adversary in the eyes. The Soldier turned to face the Captain.

And instead of charging for him, the Captain turned on his side and utter shock laced his genetically enhanced features. Shock that she had never seen. He had turned white, as if he'd seen a ghost. His mouth moved, saying something to the Soldier.

And the Soldier said something back, stepping forwards to attack when out of nowhere _something _put him on his ass.

A man, the driver from the bridge who now adorned giant mechanical wings – Mallory was too tired and too confused to react with shock – landed and surveyed the area around them. The Soldier got to his feet and hesitated. _What?_ He didn't hesitate with Kohl nor Oswick nor Fury. Hesitation didn't fit his bill – before firing a round. The Captain stood like an idiot, his face whiter then paper and raised his shield at the last second before the shot bounced. Mallory lowered her head as if she was being fired at, and ducked for cover near a van.

And then out of nowhere, a projectile was fired that exploded the car the Soldier was standing near. Mallory curved her body further into the van, and looked over the top when the smoke had cleared. The Soldier was gone, Natasha looked dead on her feet with a grenade launcher, the man with the wings was eyeing the Captain uneasily.

And the Captain stood like a statue staring at the spot the Soldier had been in as if he had lost something that was dear to him. Mallory circled the van and began to hear sirens approach steadily in the distance, blue lights flashing indicating the STRIKE team. _Finally. _

Mallory watched as the cars encircled the hunted two and their winged friend, and various STRIKE members brandishing rifles approached the three.

"Drop the shield, Cap. Get on your knees!" A familiar voice distinguished itself from the rest and a STRIKE agent approached the Captain with a handgun. A man with tanned skin, hazel eyes in STRIKE fatigues surveyed the area and went to arrest the Captain.

Rumlow. Her fists tightened, sheer rage turning her vision red and resetting all evolutionary links since the dawn of man to primal instincts. She unclasped the catch on her handgun and raised it with every intent to shoot at his feet and call him out on his bullshit in front of his entire crew despite her earlier in the day begging her dad not to mention that she knew. Then a STRIKE agent kicked her calf from behind and she fell on her knees, her gun clattering to the floor uselessly as her hands were pinned behind her back.

This battle was over. But the war was ongoing.

A/N: As you all know, the original chapter 14 was way too long. In my documents, it was 20 pages long. That is far too long for me to edit, and probably far too long for you to read in one sitting. So, I've broken it up in two parts. I should've done this at publication, but to be honest I just didn't think


	15. Fear

The past six months filtered through her memory in fragments. Nothing made sense. She revised memories hundreds of times and still nothing made sense. What Natasha saw HYDRA as and what she had been told it was, was a very different story. They hadn't arrested her, just taken her captive to 'look her over'. She'd hated the agent who looked her over, and the other one who tried to make conversation.

"_Are you stupid? Are you seriously that stupid? God." Natasha laughed harshly, then glared at her. "Did no one tell you? HYDRA are the enemy. You are the enemy."_

She had seemed to sure of herself. Maybe it was the bullet that had caused her to say those crazy things. The shock perhaps. But she had seemed to be so sure of herself...

_And instead of charging for him, the Captain turned on his side and utter shock laced his genetically enhanced features. Shock that she had never seen. He had turned white, as if he'd seen a ghost._

Why? Why had Steve done that? He had the chance to exterminate a threat that was capable of murdering him?

"_This man here-" Pierce rapped on the glass; the man did not stir. "- is responsible for keeping the peace around the world for the last fifty or so years."_

Pierce. How could killing an oil baron and a father trying to free his family from horrific experiments count as keeping the peace? And Fury's death? To her it seemed to like Pierce was denying acts of terrorism or motives to keep himself and the project funded.

"_And I'm dressed differently and I look different. And I'm falling from this... I think it's a broken door or something that's been ripped from some big metal crate. I don't know, I'm not sure. And I'm falling through the air and it's so cold and it's snowing and sometimes it feels like I've fallen into an ice cold river."_

It had seemed like an overactive imagination at the time but now it seemed like it had meant something. But what? Had it been his reality?

"_Yeah. So it'll never die." Rumlow looked a little abashed at his next statement. "Like us hopefully." _

It didn't contribute to any of the mystery but seeing him on that street brought it all back. His love, his laugh, his life with her. How could he lie to her that entire time? And how could she have missed it? He'd seemed so genuine.

She had loved him because he was the opposite of Liam yet she'd discovered he was every bit like him. Maybe she had a type. A lying pretty boy with a knack for getting into her head.

Her head... her head _hurt._ Everything in it swirled like clothes in a tumble dryer and she was so tired of not knowing everything, of not having intimate and ultimate knowledge of what she was doing and where she was going. It seemed her life was built on lies and secrecy, that the last six months of her life was false and pretend. She needed answers and she had gotten some from her father about Rumlow but it seemed everything else he was intent on keeping her in the dark about. He would know everything about it. She had to see him to ask about HYDRA and why

Romanoff was convinced they were the enenmy and why Director Fury had died discovering HYDRA.

The door suddenly clicked and a man with dark hair, hazel eyes and tanned skin entered. Mallory blinked hard, her heart thudding into a stop, clearing her suddenly misted vision as the mirage of Rumlow shimmered into a similar looking man in a white coat.

"You're free to go."

She shoved past him and walked down the hall. They'd cut away her jacket to inspect her for any wound but as she was merely a little shocked, they'd just given her some drugs to calm her down. Her thick boots, a relic from her brief stint in the field, made that atypical military noise against the hard floors and she reached back and tore her hair free from its tie, allowing it to fall naturally around her shoulders.

She marched for the exit but voices caught her ears; two men yelling at each other. She branched off into the door on the left, into a small room which overlooked a large glass office similar to Pierce's in the now defunct Department X. The door held a sign saying BANK MANAGER. Through the glass she saw Pierce standing at a wooden desk, yelling at Rumlow who was yelling back.

"-shouldn't of put her out there! There was no use for her!" Rumlow's voice was obscured somewhat by the thick glass but the open door allowed her to hear most of what he was saying.

"I had my reasons! And don't presume you can speak to me as if we are equals, Agent Rumlow. You're my best agent but you are damn well replaceable!"

Rumlow looked furious, sighing audibly and running a hand through his short hair although when he spoke he was making an effort not to yell. "Why did you do it then? Huh? Did you want to prove something to her?"

Mallory lent against the doorway and rapped twice on the wood. Both men turned, and Mallory smiled, as calm as she could manage.

"Yes, sir. Why was I put into the field? There was really no reason for me to be there, no reason at all."

At the intrusion, both men whirled at her voice. Rumlow went white then let out a laugh of relief.

"Baby, I-"

She held up a hand to silence him, choosing not to look at him in case she did something uncharacteristically violent. She saw even without looking at him directly a worried expression crossed his face. She instead focused on how Pierce was trying to so hard to maintain a respectable composure.

Pierce sighed. "I don't have to explain myself."

"But I'd like you too."

"I know about the phone call to Romanoff." Mallory's heart stopped; had the bug worked up until that point and he'd heard what they discussed? Rumlow looked back and forth between the two, then sighed.

"Why did you call her?"

Mallory ignored him and Pierce spoke over him.

"I don't know what the hell you two discussed but I couldn't take any chances. After Dr. Harriet's departure-"

"You're allowed to say 'murder' now, Pierce. I'm not a little girl and I'm not stupid." She didn't mention how her father had been the one to tell her.

He smoothed down his jacket and circled the desk to face her properly. "-you were the perfect replacement. And in all his fifty years, he's never bonded with anybody quite like he bonded with you. I don't know why – which I dislike – as you're completely ordinary and average like the rest of them but for some reason he's taken a shine to you. I couldn't risk that even if you might've accidentally passed on some valuable information to Romanoff. And I can't really risk any chance of you defecting because I believe the Soldier wouldn't do as well under anyone else's care."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Pierce sighed and gripped the desk. "I hoped putting you in the field again and watching Romanoff, Rogers and their new friend, Wilson, putting hundreds of civillians lives at risk to evade capture would help you make your own decision about them."

Mallory weighed up the decisions in her mind, then she narrowed her gaze on Pierce. The truth needed to get out; she needed to know. Maybe it would be a mistake asking him. She'd end up regretting it she knew. But she needed to know. The benefit of knowledge outweighed the risk and she was sick and tired of being the last to know everything. Mallory walked forwards and crossed her arms, eyeing Pierce critically.

"Natasha was shot by the Soldier. I went to see if she was okay and she denied my help." Mallory swallowed all of her reluctance down and forced herself to spit it out. "She said she wasn't going to accept help from the enemy, especially one like HYDRA. What was she talking about?"

"Baby don't-" Rumlow was warning her; Mallory looked at him properly and felt a pang of unwanted love and hatred swell in her chest. She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Then Pierce laughed. Her head swivelled to him; it was a snarky, mocking laugh but a laugh all the same. It cut the air like a shark's fin in the water, harsh and unrelenting. It locked into her subconscious and the image of the Soldier on a marionette was suddenly conjured from her nightmare. The puppet master, laughing at her.

"I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you. We're not a sub-department of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Mallory tilted her head, the laugh flashing horribly through her mind. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Have you ever wondered why our members say Hail HYDRA?" Mallory shook her head; when Pierce had first mentioned it to her she had put if off as one of those age old traditions that he had carried from childhood. "It's a relic from the founding of HYDRA in the time of the Third Reich. Members of the Third Reich of course said "Hail Hitler!" so in an effort to relate to the Nazi programme but also promote their own ideology, the department created the "Hail HYDRA!" catchphrase. HYDRA at the time served as Adolf Hitler's deep science division, developing weapons for the Second World War. Initially it was lead by Johann Schmidt-"

"The Red Skull?"

He clapped his hands together, delighted. "Yes! You know your history. Anyway after HYDRA was formally disbanded, S.H.I.E.L.D recruited former agents for intelligence services like Arnim Zola. Zola was unwilling to abandon HYDRA's ideas but decided Schmidt's frankness about their activities would not do. Instead, he recruited members to the new intelligent HYDRA formation and planted sleeper agents in the two super powers at the time, the USA and Soviet Russia. Here we acquired and brainwashed Bar-" He looked nervously to Rumlow and straightened his tie. "-the Soldier forcefully into doing our bidding-"

Mallory swayed on the balls of her feet, unable to process this sudden influx of information. HYDRA were Nazis. And the Soldier had been forcefully placed into the programme. She'd been told he'd volunteered for the programme. _Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl. _It was obvious really. Who on earth would volunteer to kill for a living? She'd swallowed Pierce's lies so easily, so eager to impress him and his company into giving her such a prestigious position with such great benefits. It was so obvious, she was blind to not have seen it before. Hatred of her father swelled, and hatred of Pierce and HYDRA and Rumlow increased tenfold. They'd all lied to her about HYDRA and it's involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D. The people protecting the republic of the world were all criminals, liars, sleeper agents. And her father... her father had been a member of S.H.I.E.L.D since she was a kid; did that mean he'd been a HYDRA agent that entire time? All throughout her life she had been living under the roof of a man who agreed with the ideals of an organization that had tried to bomb the world and he had willingly gone into the fold? Her trust shattered. Who could she trust, apart from herself and perhaps her mother? Images of the man with the metal arm who had hunted so ruthlessly on the highway.

And then her chest tightened with sympathy. Poor poor Soldier. Her eyes brimmed with tears threatening to overspill and give the game away. Who had he been before Zola had horribly stolen him from his life and forced him to kill? It didn't necessarily abolish the fact he'd heartlessly killed Kohl but it did indeed lessen it; it wasn't his fault.

Pierce carried on as if he hadn't noticed she was going insane.

"- to abolish anyone who got in the way of attempting to break apart our ideals. S.H.I.E.L.D was formed after the Second World war and agents were planted immediately in its structure and survive to this day. Without us, S.H.I.E.L.D would be nothing. Once Project INSIGHT gets in the air-"

Rumlow interrupted. "She doesn't know about that, sir."

Pierce launched into an explanation. "Oh well, no need for secrecy now? Its a marvellous idea, Mallory. I know you'll agree with us when you know."

"Just tell me." She spat.

"Three Hellicarriers are due in the air tomorrow. They are carrying Zola's algorithm which calculates a persons past to predict their future. Then they wipe out the threat before the crimes can be committed."

Mallory's mouth dropped open and it all became so clear to her. The note flashed in her memory, on Pierce's desk alongside the files of Fury, Rogers, Romanoff.

_Project INSIGHT under threat. Eliminate priority target with WS, then the rest._

_AP_

It was obvious. Fury had obviously discovered Project INSIGHT. Maybe he had learned of the algorithm that predicted the threat and deduced what the Hellicarriers would do when they were in the air. Maybe he had discovered it through hacking the files on the database or discovering a small Department X server and learning from there. Somehow Pierce had found this out and decided to call in the Soldier to eliminate the priority target before going after the two people who would be informed of such a conspiracy in the event that Fury ever discovered it; Romanoff and Rogers.

Pierce approached her as he talked, but Mallory found herself backing away. "There's no need to run away, Miss Smith. We're still the same HYDRA, just slightly different ideals."

"Slightly different! You're telling me I'm working for Nazis who want to commit a mass genocide just because a few people have a bad past and you expect me to be okay with that?!"

Rumlow approached her his arms up in surrender. "Calm down-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down." She screamed, her yell echoing around the office as her cheeks ran wet with tears. "You lied to me, you all lied to me! This is completely unethical!"

They tried to reason with her. "It was for the best-"

"You treated me like a child, hiding information from me!"

"You're acting like one right now! Look at you!" Rumlow grabbed her by the shoulders and a chill ran up her spine; he still didn't know she was aware of his intentions on her. "You gotta understand we knew you wouldn't join us if you knew what we were about-"

Mallory laughed, a crazed laugh that almost matched the level of horror she had felt when Pierce had laughed. "Really?! Don't you fucking dare turn this on me, Brock, I am so mad at you right now. I am mad at both of you."

"Listen-"

Before he could launch into his rhetoric, a tech popped his head around the door totally oblivious to the screaming match and said. "We have him. We're treating his arm right now."

Mallory fell silent, tearing her body away from Rumlow and turning into the corner. She broke down in tears. Guilt surrounded her in a veil of grey. She had done this. She had sent the Soldier onto those missions. Although unknowingly, she had assisted in HYDRA's world order. She had thought herself for all her life that she was the good guy, the Rogers to the Red Skull, the Thor to Loki, the Abel to Cain but right now she was indeed the serpent in the beautiful garden who would bring about the downfall to humanity.

"The Soldier needs you."

Her voice was a whisper, hoarse and broken. "I can't." _Don't make me._

"If you know what happened to Dr. Harriet, then you know you can't quit HYDRA." The threaten of blackmail – assist or die – loomed over her head and she turned slowly to meet Pierce's sharks eye. "Do the right thing."

Rumlow was waiting. He still didn't know and he was waiting for her. Pierce walked to the door and waited at the door frame for her, his lips curled in an unpleasant smug smile. He had every right to be smug. He had won after all, as Mallory put her hands on her upper arms, suddenly freezing cold and followed him through what she had assumed to be a bank vault to where the Soldier was being held. Halfway down, they were flagged by STRIKE members adorned with guns. She couldn't run now. Despite Pierce saying that the Soldier liked her she'd still be shot within a second.

_If anybody else tends to him, he'll be hurt for sure. _She reasoned with herself. But she still felt awful, bogged with guilt and hatred.

A tech approached them as they arrived. "Sir, he's unstable." The tech paused to find the right word, "Erratic."

The group walked straight past him, Mallory's eyes searching. Her sight fell upon the Soldier, shirtless and wearing sweatpants being fawned over by techs fixing his arm as he sat in the jagged tarantula chair which she knew was the memory wipe machine. Her eyes swelled with tears again and her heart ached with sympathy, the urge to yell sorry whilst grabbing a gun and running with him from the room increased.

"Do your job." Pierce hissed at her, and she walked nonchalantly over to where the screens where it displayed his vitals. He was perfect, in health but not mind. She jabbed the screen and pretended to look busy, drowning out the noises of Pierce's voice and the fact that Rumlow was breathing near her.

"Mission report." Pierce commanded. Mallory sneaked a peek at the Soldier through a curtain of her hair and saw him staring off into the distance. "Mission report now."

When he still didn't answer, Pierce slapped him. The sound of his palm hitting the Soldier's cheek was harsh but no one in the room bar Mallory jumped.

The Soldier looked unconcerned as this happened all the time. "That man on the bridge... who was he?"

_Steve Rogers. His name was Steve Rogers and although I'm probably going crazy he knew you, I swear he knew you. _Mallory continued to pretend playing with the screen but looked back at how Pierce's jaw had tightened and he looked pretty angry that the Soldier was asking.

"You met him earlier this week on an assignment."

It wasn't a lie but then again it wasn't quite the truth. Mallory stopped pretending, and turned her body to listen fully to the conversation.

"I knew him." The Soldier said, in that blank emotionless way of his. On the surface it would look as if he was merely speaking blankly but Mallory knew him well enough to recognize the distant look in his eyes, the kind he'd had when he'd first told her of his dream of falling into the snow. Pierce hid a sigh and pulled up a chair, sitting down opposite the Soldier and talking in a way that reminded her of her father.

"Your work has been a gift to mankind. You've shaped the century." _With blood and anguish and it's all your fault. _"And I need you do it one more time. Society's at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push but if you don't do your part I can't do mine. And HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

Mallory wanted to tut. Or more likely lunge across the room at Pierce screaming and clawing his face like a banshee. That arrogant son of a bitch... here he was attempting to convince a man who had been brainwashed to serve and kill under the Soviets and HYDRA that his work was good. The way the Soldier reacted was reminiscent of how Mallory always would after her father would try and be reasonable with her; he pursed his lips in a childish way and spoke in a knowing way.

"But I knew him."

Pierce nodded a little, and looked resolute before giving up on trying to reason with him like an adult to a child and standing up. He turned to a tech. And the Soldier turned his head to her.

His eyes were filled with emotion, something she had never expected for the Soldier. It was obvious; flashes of his past life were coming back. And it was good. She moved closer to him, her eyes glittering with tears and fought back the urge to take his hands.

"Prep him." Pierce ordered, fully prepared to hightail it out the room to spread more lies into the world was Mallory smiled reassuringly to the Soldier to which he relaxed onto the chair.

"She kept him out of cryo-sleep for too long." The technician said worriedly, punctuating his words by adding a glare at Mallory which she didn't care about.

"Then wipe him and start over."

At the sound of his words, he looked over anxiously to Pierce. His entire body tensed as if he was anticipating an attack or pain, muscles rippling as they contracted and relaxed at his command. He looked... and this was a word she rarely used to describe him but he looked afraid. It set Mallory on edge. They were going to wipe his memory.

All his progress, all of their relationship so far he'd lose. He'd lose pizza, training, the Russian prison, his confession that he sometimes had vague nightmares about falling. He'd lose her punching him, his amendment that Ariadne it wasn't her fault, his face moving into her hand at the tender moment they shared in the prison, his hand falling against her as they slept. He wouldn't remember. Mallory bit her lip and staggered backwards a little, trying desperately not to cry in front of the techs.

The technicians came over, and pushed him onto the seat. The machine then clamped him and he tensed even harder. At least it wouldn't hurt... she'd read the memory wipes weren't unpleasant. But the way everyone was acting she'd think he was about to get tortured or something.

Pierce left and so did the STRIKE team but Rumlow lingered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you shouldn't watch this."

She forget she was pretending that she hadn't found the bug and recoiled under his touch, folding her arms. He looked hurt then his sadness changed to anger.

"Is something wrong? You've barely looked at me since I got back."

Mallory's eyes were fixed on the scene in front of her, Rumlow's voice reduced to an irritating soundtrack to accompany the scene. A tech approached the Soldier with something in his hands, then placed it in his mouth. The Soldier bit down on it, staring ahead as if he was going to do something unpleasant. Mallory's arms slowly unfolded when she realized what it was...

"Why are you putting that on him?"

Nobody answered. A tech started the programme, and the machine suddenly jolted, forcing the Soldier to lie on his back. The machine's tarantula-like arms began to buzz with electricity that would stimulate his memory and suppress it; they locked onto his head and the Soldier yelped a cry of pain that cut into her like a knife.

Mallory slowly realized. This was a day of knowledge but she was learning fast. This was going hurt. This was going to hurt the Soldier, the knowledge thick and tense in the air.

As the machine began to buzz. Mallory found herself caught in a time lock, trapped and unable to move. His eyes were alive with feeling, with human feeling. Then the screams began.

They tore through her core and sanity, ten times worse then anything Ariadne could produce. They were shrieks of a man at his end, a man who was on the verge of a breakdown unable to be compared with anything on this astral plane. She wasn't sure if the ground had fallen away from her, or she had moved but the shock caused her to stagger, Rumlow stepping forwards to catch her. The world became a buzz of black and white, the only highlighted thing being the Soldier's form. She couldn't hear anything apart from his screams, not even her own voice screeching beyond the human level of hearing for them to turn the machine off, to make the noise stop. As he was being turned back to a robot, he was never more human.

Slowly the world came into focus and Mallory could hear herself. "Shut it off! Turn it off now! I'll break it!"

She charged out of Rumlow's arms her skin crawling with his touch and tried to yank the cord out of the machine; she slammed into two techs who pushed her back onto Rumlow's front.

His arms immediately encircled her and for a moment she forgot, sobbing into his sweaty and bloodstained uniform. She burrowed her face into the hard material, trying desperately to blot out the noise with memories of her childhood. Eventually she looked up to see the techs had left and the Soldier was lying back, panting hard. It was over but the screams were imprinted on her memory, the sounds of her Soldier being erased.

"It's hard for me too but it has to be done."

It came back to her with a blast. "Just-get-off-me!"

She staggered towards the Soldier, tearing apart the metal shackles with her hands. He was still but as she found herself cupping his cheek, he caught her wrist and quickly shot up to a seating position.

His eyes were blank and cold; her heart ached. "Who are you?" He asked in that quiet, cautious way of his like he had when they'd first met.

Mallory's mouth opened and closed, her throat feeling like it was too tight to speak to him at all.

"My name..." She swallowed hard and attempted a watery smile. "Is Dr. Smith. I'm your doctor. I have been for a while."

He let go of her wrist, his fingers leaving a white impression on her skin. She backed away from her, in fear of the way he was watching her like a predator with its prey, a cat to a mouse. Her skin chilled when she backed into Rumlow.

His hands grasped her shoulders. "Come on. We better get home."

She turned slowly, unable to stop herself. The Soldier's screams reducing to the back of her mind as the emotional baggage began to wear down her mind. It was too much. The bridge and the little boy, learning HYDRA's true nature, her father and Pierce and Rumlow's deception, the Soldier screaming for mercy as he was buzzed back to a clean slate... she hadn't meant to reveal to him that she was aware of his lying treacherous nature but she was afraid if she didn't, she would explode on him.

"Don't touch me." Her cheeks felt warm with tears and anger. "Don't you fucking touch me."

He opened his mouth to protest but she was backing away as if he was advancing to attack her.

"And don't deny it. I found the bug. Rumlow, I know."

His face went white. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and his eyes so bright and beautiful glistened with jewels. In the moment before he was about to confess to his crimes, Mallory had never loved him more.

"Mal-"

"Don't. Just don't... we're over. Whatever the fuck we were it's over."

He advanced forwards and tried to pull her into his arms. "Mallory, please-"

Her temper snapped; she shoved him as hard as she could and unleashed a fraction of her tidal wave anger to punch him like the Soldier had taught her. He staggered backwards, faintly rubbing his cheek as it began to redden under the weight of her fist.

"You're a monster." She was sobbing again, daring him to come closer so she could take out her anger and frustration on him. "I hate you."

_I love you _part of her sang as images of how he had constructed this deception played through her mind. But most of her were was filled with rage and violence towards him and organization that she'd face certain death if she ever left it.

Rumlow made a move to comfort her again, but he seemed to stop midway. With a face like clapped thunder he left the stormy room and it immediately calmed. Mallory crumpled, turning inwards, her legs weak as if she was about fall. She couldn't see nor think nor breathe. The tidal wave of emotions that had been building long before this crashed over her and left her stunned and submerged underwater. She was drowning, over the weight of her guilt and frustration and murderous rage.

"Mallory."

The voice was soft. She paid no heed then remembered; only the Soldier was with her right now. _And she never told him her name._

Mallory turned her head to him and saw him looking at her, a deep crease between his eyebrows. Mallory wiped her eyes and sniffed, feeling as if she was crawling as she walked towards him.

"I never told you my name."

And then he said, "I remembered."

Her jaw clicked as it dropped open, the sudden floodgates of the pent up emotions curtailing at the sound of his voice. _What could he mean? _How could he have remembered? He'd just had his mind wiped! Mallory let out short laugh of disbelief.

"How?"

The Soldier tried to stand, legs shaking but staggered as he made his way towards her; Mallory moved quickly and caught him before he hit the ground. He was uncomfortable with the bodily contact but he allowed her to support him. His body was wet with sweat against her, pale and strong but shaking under the toll of the memory wipes.

"It was what you said to him... what you called him... you called me that." Mallory frowned, unable to remember and he hesitantly added, "In the... prison? You called me a monster too."

It all came back to her. The cold and anger she'd felt towards his admission that he'd do whatever Pierce would ask had made her angry enough to invade his personal space and hiss at him. And she'd called Rumlow the same thing. But why had that triggered it?

It clicked. _Memory fragmentation. _Zola's theory. The idea that a strong emotional sight, smell or sound could bring back memories that had been repressed. It had never been proven till now. And it added more guilt to her already world heavy pile; had her calling him that really affected him so much? He didn't look hurt when she'd actually said it.

_Oh Soldier._

"Do you remember everything?" She asked eagerly, guiding him with her body away from the memory wipe machine. He looked to be in pain, the frown deepening and letting out a small soft sigh as she moved with him.

"Not everything. Little things. Flashes." He turned his head to her. "Did we sleep together?"

His voice was so low, so scandalous that even despite her current state Mallory laughed a real genuine giggle.

"Not like that." She composed her expression. "It was in the field mission we went on together, in the prison with the pregnant woman?" She couldn't say her name out loud.

He nodded slowly. "I don't know if I remember. I think... you delivered the baby, didn't you?"

She nodded back. "Yeah. Can you remember anything of your past life? Before you were-" She glanced at his sweat soaked forehead, his long shaggy hair, his half-murderous and half-confused expression that adorned his pretty face, his cybernetic arm with the Soviet star. "-this?"

He shook his head. "No."

Mallory settled him onto the examination table that was similar to the one they had shared so many monosyllabic conversations on back in the lab. She wiped his hair back from his face, him flinching under he touch but as her hand lingered he closed his eyes as if he was absorbing the moment. The light hearted tone of their exchange vanished and Mallory felt the guilt return, stronger then ever. Her face fell; she had did this. Not all by herself for sure but she had assisted into making the man what he was, to making this organization so powerful that it could get those Hellicarriers in the air and wipe out the population in a mass genocide. This entire situation she found herself, with a broken heart and aching limbs and a sore head, had been partly her fault. She couldn't help but muse on what her life would've been like if she hadn't of took the job. Without the job from Pierce, she would've been unemployed for a lot longer. If her unemployment had persisted like it probably would've in the current economic climate, perhaps she'd have lost the apartment due to shortfalls on the rent making her move in with her parents. Then perhaps she'd have to accept the crappy diner job her mother had pursued for her. Maybe she'd meet a nice man there, a blonde who asked to take her out to dinner; the total opposite of the dark haired and Italian ancestry of Rumlow. Maybe they'd fall in love for the six months and she'd find herself in a stable position with loving parents, a loving boyfriend and maybe even a cat.

And maybe she'd watch this drama fold out on the news, safely at home but thinking with grief of everyone who'd lost their lives.

But she couldn't dwell on the could bes and the might haves; this was the hand she'd been dealt and she just had to go with it. She had accepted the job, she had fallen so hard for a fake man, she had met the Soldier. Unlike others who went about their lives in an ordinary sense in a world which made sense and which she belonged too, Mallory had been pushed into a world of politics and darkness with a highly trained assassin currently staring up at her as if she was a puppy, a master spy who had rejected her help on the battlefield, and a devastating mission in a prison that had emotionally destroyed her. _Do what is right, not what is easy _her father had always taught her.

"I have to go." She mused out loud and the Soldier grabbed her wrist again, more gentle.

"You can't."

The silent admission that he needed her that was the undertone of his words was touching but she gently pulled his hand from her wrist and sighed. "I have to. If you want to get better, you have to let me go."

"How can I get better? They're just going to wipe me again." He looked a little frightened at the prospect.

"I need to find someone who might be able to remind you of your past identity." She stepped from him and ran a hand through her hair, searching the vast knowledge of people in her brain. "Someone who knew you..."

The image of a man in a uniform with a shield came to mind; the Captain. He had to know. That look on the highway was a look of pure fear, of recognition, of disbelief. If anybody knew anything about the Soldier, it was Steve.

"Who?"

Mallory sighed and rubbed her sweating palms on her tank top. "I guess I have to find Steve Rogers."

A/N: Part two of two is concluded. Hope you enjoyed!


	16. Faith

Natasha Romanoff found it ironic that in the span of her life and all the dangerous situations she'd been involved in she had only been shot twice and both times it had been by the same person. She'd been rescued by Maria, and taken to an underground compound somewhere in D.C. A medic hovered above her, pressing her wound with probing fingers and although she was grateful for his help, it still hurt.

"Ow."  
"Sorry-"

"Don't keep apologizing. Just ignore me."

Natasha sighed, and felt a deep cloud of pain muddle her senses and swim her thoughts in her mind.

"There we go." The medic announced and Natasha looked up at him, blinking hard. "Fury wants to see you."

_Fury_. That bastard had her convinced he was dead for almost a week. Although Clint was on assignment and he'd arrive too late to be of any use, she had to talk herself out of calling him up and telling him everything that had happened this week. The supposed death of the Director had wounded her deeply. It seemed odd, to consider Fury a mortal man. He was untouchable, a statue of marble. Nat guessed he'd been a few sticky situations in his life but he had always slipped free, using his wits or his brawn. Fury felt omnipresent like God himself and to equate God with death felt wrong. He had made her cry. Seeing the dead body on the slab was unbelievable, the father of S.H.I.E.L.D, dead like the average man. It reminded Nat of her own mortality, and the loss of Fury had hit her harder than she'd expected it too.

"Thanks." She said, hopping down from the examination table and exiting the room with a certain swagger to her steps. She rolled her shoulder this way and that; pain shot through her but the medic had doped her up enough so that it felt like being nipped by a small child. Natasha swung her hips and pulled her shoulders back and listened to the clack of her block heels against the stone floors of the hideout. Water dripped from the roof above and pooled on the floors, and with each step she could hear the splashes of water as her heels made contact with the floor.

Nervousness pooled in her stomach like it always did on the impending doom missions. Sure, she put on a brave face but any S.H.I.E.L.D agent knew that even the smartest, most well thought out missions with the bravest of people could go haywire in seconds. A lucky shot from a rookie agent could drop her at any time. A civilian could distract her and make her get shot. Her stomach could decide to rumble at the wrong moment, giving away her position and opening up her team to fire. No amount of planning could account for random variables. It was an unwritten rule of being a spy; anything can go wrong. The Red Room had taught her she was indestructible, that she was untouchable but S.H.I.E.L.D reminded her she was all too mortal. _And now it's gone._ Lost in thought, she rounded the corner and entered the room where Fury sat at a table on his own.

"Where is everybody?" She said, her voice harsher then she'd intended.

Fury was playing with the latch on the briefcase in front of him before he answered. "Around. Are you mad at me, Agent Romanoff? I feel like you are."

Natasha took a seat and tilted her head to the side. "I'm always mad at you. Constant _fury_." Her eyes lit up at her pun and the Director sighed.

"Bad puns aside, what is the matter?"

Natasha sighed and stared at the table. "Something's bothering me. There was a girl-"

Images conjured of the doctor Natasha had befriended the other day who had also been on the highway with HYDRA. Of course as they'd had their conversation, Natasha had only been listening with polite interest to her chatter but when the girl had mentioned that she had been assigned by Pierce it had perked her interest. She hadn't set out to semi-interrogate her, it had just happened. Natasha admitted she liked the girl. She seemed sweet, trusting but ultimately naive. An utter opposite of what she assumed HYDRA would want.

And then of course Natasha had trusted her gut and warned her over the phone to get out. The girl seemed to take their advice and Natasha had been fine until she'd seen her on the battlefield. And she'd even had the nerve to try and treat her... HYDRA didn't seem like the glove Mallory Smith would wear but it seemed Natasha had been wrong about someone. It was odd. She was never wrong. She knew everything.

Even her skill set was odd; she was a doctor. Mallory had checked her file; there was no history of military service. She wasn't even a military doctor. So what was a civilian doctor doing working for HYDRA? Why would HYDRA hire someone who seemed, and to no offense to her, a little useless?

"- who I met the other day. She said she worked for S.H.I.E.L.D but she was there on the highway with Barnes." Natasha recalled Mallory's expression; utter bemusement. If she was there with HYDRA, why would she try and hide it? Natasha's head ached with trying to work it out. Maybe she was getting too old to be an agent; she was only thirty but she had belonged to a spy organization since she was a child.

"What's the problem then?"

"There's something… off about it. Like when I asked, she had no idea what I was talking about."

Fury's interest was perked as he pushed the briefcase away and leaned in, winding his long fingers around each other. "What's her name? I might know her."

"Mallory Smith. I checked her on the database when I got back from the Batroc mission." Natasha waved her hand. "Nothing interesting about her on there. Doctor, level 4. Her dad works near Pierce though, a big fish. Probably a HYDRA agent as well. I guess that's how she got the job with HYDRA."

She would've never guessed a girl like Mallory to join HYDRA. Or that HYDRA would even accept her.

Fury frowned then nodded. "Sampson Smith. That's his daughter, Mal?"

Natasha was surprised. "You know her?"

"Vaguely. He spoke about her sometimes. Proud of her. We all signed the kids birthday card every year. I know her dad better, though." Fury sat back and stroked his chin, elongating Mallory's dad's name. "Sampson. Eager to please Pierce. A suck up, I never really liked him. He was just a normal agent until one day Pierce promoted him and he was sent to work in some department somewhere."

"HYDRA?"

"Most likely." Fury seemed less interested now. "So what are you thinking?"

"I don't know. But… my gut tells me she didn't have a clue what I was talking about." Uneasiness stirred in Natasha and before she knew it, her phone was out. She found Mallory's number, the unknown which she had inexplicably saved, labelling her as Mallory. Her finger hovered as she unable to decide whether or not they could risk a phone call.

"Look, Romanoff… I try not to trust anybody." Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him and he laughed, then hissed with pain. "But I know you should trust your instincts. If you think this girl knows something or doesn't know something and you think calling her will help, then you do that. We're underground, so they can't track the call if you turn out to be wrong. You don't have anything to lose."

Natasha sighed and stared at the ceiling, hoping that God would grant her some patience to deal with this. "Do you think I'm wrong?"

"My opinion doesn't matter."

"So, yes you do." Natasha made the decision and pressed the screen mainly in her desire to prove Fury wrong. She placed the phone on the table and pressed speakerphone, allowing Fury to hear the conversation. She didn't wait long before she heard an answer.

"Hello?" A gruff voice answered, a man. Natasha recoiled from the phone and glanced at Fury who was looking interested once again. "Who is this?"

On the spot, she couldn't think of a name but she did recall one of her known alias; Laura Matthers, 28, a happy-go-lucky waitress with aspirations to be a writer.

"Hi, this is Laura? Is Mallory there?"

Natasha's ears pricked and she could hear another voice in the background; a female, a cracked voice yelling. "I'm not a child! You can't just take my phone off me."

"Mallory isn't here right now." The voice who she presumed to be Sampson Smith barked down the phone.

Natasha and Fury exchanged bemused glances, Fury mouthing _is he joking? _Natasha smiled and waved him off.

"I can hear kinda hear her, man." Natasha hid a worried smile. "Just put her on the phone."

Steve decided to make his entrance, his hands rubbing together from his transition from the cold outside to the warmth of the underground base. "Who are-"

Both Natasha and Fury shushed him. Confused, Steve gripped the back of a chair and frowned a she listened.

The phone suddenly crackled and the sounds of a scuffle blared down the speaker. As the phone seemingly switched hands, Mallory's voice took over.

"Seriously, Dad go downstairs before I do something violent." A pause then, "I said go. Hello, who this is?"

The man on the other end denied her request. She had been crying. Natasha could tell straight away. And she knew that she had been right; Mallory had really no clue what she had been talking about on the bridge. What did that mean? It wouldn't surprise her if HYDRA had been lying to its own employees.

"Mallory. It's me Nat. Before you say anything I want you to say, 'hi Laura'."

Mallory sniffed. "N- what?"

The girl was far too slow to be a HYDRA agent. Fury's frown deepened.

Natasha slipped into her low Black Widow growl. "Mallory, Laura's calling you to ask if you wanted that book back."

The girl over the phone sniffed again but seemed to click. "Oh. Yeah. Hi Laura. Uh, have you finished the books?"

Her acting was surprisingly competent. Natasha quirked an eyebrow at Fury. "I've finished one, but not the other."

Natasha wondered how she could relay her questions in three minutes before Sampson caught wind of her ploy, however Mallory interrupted.

"He's gone. Too goddamn mad at me to stay." The girl sniffed again. "Did you need something?"

Natasha exchanged a glance with Steve who was looking completely bemused and she clasped her hands together. "Have they explained? About HYDRA."

Mallory let out a half-sob half-laugh and seemed to be beginning to cry. "Yeah. They told me. They told me everything. Project INSIGHT... the Soldier... they won't let me leave!" Her voice cracked and Mallory began to sob over the phone. Natasha could almost smell Steve's urgency to get to the girl and make her stop crying – nothing appealed to his patriotic nature more then a crying girl. He was so '40s.

"Did you know?"  
"No. I know it sounds fucking ridiculous but I really didn't know." And then crazily, she began to try and justify herself. "Whatever I've done, I didn't mean it, I didn't know. They said he was doing it for the good of the world. I just wanted to take care of him. If only I'd known..."

It seemed strange that Mallory was asking forgiveness from the queen of sinners. Flashes of her own life and all of her own emotional strife and the crimes she had been committed ran through her head. As she had told the trickster god in a way to mask her true intent in the battle of New York in '12, her ledger was red. It was gushing red and it seemed silly this girl this innocent and sweet girl who had a doctorate and seemingly, not much else was worrying about her involvement in these missions. Natasha felt, and it was strange to think it, a motherly instinct towards this girl.

"You couldn't of known."

Mallory laughed, harshly. "I could've! The evidence was there! I was so fucking stupid." She sobbed again. "They won't let me go home."

"Where are you? We can come and get you."

Both Fury and Steve started forwards. "What-" The explosion was in unison and Natasha waved her hands to stop them from talking.

"You can?" The hope in her voice was so alive that Natasha stood, switched the phone off speaker and left the room, pushing past Steve who tried to block her way. She went down the hall, readying herself to get into a car and visit the place the young girl was in.

"Yes. I can come right now, if you can get away. Can you do that?"

Steve had followed her down the hall, his voice echoing down the stones. "Natasha you're risking everything just-"

Natasha was focused on Mallory. "Yes I think I can. Just park down the street-"

Steve continued, "-to save some girl who's an admitted HYDRA agent-"

"-and wait there until I can-"

"- and despite what she says is-"

"-climb out of a window and-"

"- probably still working for HYDRA-"

"-come join you."  
"-and will compromise our mission""

The pair spoke over each other and it felt like Natasha was being attacked by bees, frantic buzzing all around her. Natasha grew annoyed at the constant disappointment in Steve's voice that she put the phone to her chest and turned to face him.

"Don't do this." His blue eyes were alight with emotion and for a moment Natasha was prepared to bend under the weight of the Captain's command like it had in the Chitauri invasion. He did outrank her after all. But then the Black Widow within span its web and Natasha became the ocean, an unrelenting tempest of fury and strength.

"You told me that you'd trust me to save your life. That you finally trusted me. Did you mean it?"

"Natasha-"

"Did you mean it? Or did you just say it to shut me up?"

The Captain shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and pressed his lips together, nodding at her. Natasha softened and raised her hurt arm to grasp his, ignoring the swell of pain.

"My gut tells me to trust her. Just like how you trust me." She swallowed. "She's an innocent and even in the tiniest chance I'm wrong, she might have information on Project INSIGHT we could use. Will you come with me?"

He nodded, his face too composed for their former argument. She guessed that he would silently brew until Natasha was proven wrong or right about Mallory.

"We'll take the car." He announced, before moving past her. "I'm driving."

Natasha Romanoff smiled.

A/N: School has finally finished, so no more excuses!


	17. Her Soldier

Long after the dialling tone had faded and she had locked the phone, Mallory clasped her hands to her chest and stared out of the window. She parted the lacy curtains of her parents' bedroom, her eyes darting anxiously up and down the ordinary suburban street. Her ears were pricked for the sound of Natasha's engine and her eyes glued to the sight of the black car that had pulled up on the sidewalk that day in the park. Hope swelled in her veins, of rescue, of a chance to redeem herself from all of the bad things she had done. The Winter Soldier, her poor Soldier was never far from her thoughts. She longed to be near him, like a mother to a child but she knew for him to get better they would have to be apart for some time. They'd learn that he'd remembered her partly, and they'd wipe him again. Her mind tortured her with images of his agonizing memory wipe, forcing her to push it back and drown the thoughts with images of happiness. But come to think of it, most of her happy moments were spent with her father and Rumlow, which were moments tinged with sadness. Why was it that all the men in her life lied to her? Her mother couldn't of known about HYDRA because despite her seemingly sweet nature, she would be furious with her father. No more boyfriends or fathers, she decided gravely. _I'm getting a dog. _

Her father had came to pick her up from the bank. She'd tried to run from the armoured guard escort but they'd pulled her back. Literally, she kicked and screamed as they bundled her in the back of the car and when she'd seen her father she'd attempted to hurt him. She'd gotten a few choice kicks in but they'd restrained her, and she had felt the prick of the needle slide into her neck before it had coursed through her veins and sedated her to silence. She'd woken in her parents bedroom an hour later to the sound of her parents arguing fiercely. When Mallory had opened the door to them, her mother had yanked her into a hug and demanded to know why there was an armoured escort pulling away from the sidewalk. Her father hadn't told her anything, but dragged Mallory into the bedroom again to argue with her. Natasha had called moments ago, and Mallory felt safer knowing she was on her way.

She stepped back from the window and caught sight of herself in her parents large mirror mounted on the closet; a vision of pale skin, dirt and black clothes against the neutral theme of her parent's bedroom. Mallory stepped closer. Her hands roamed the usually smooth skin that was puckered with scratches and dirt. Her face and body was paler and frailer then usual, her eyes seeming to lose their colour and fade to black, her hair darker, wilder, greasier. Her eyes had lost all mascara and eyeliner she had been wearing, replaced with dirt and the red rimmed print of tears. She needed a shower. She needed sleep. Her stomach rumbled for food but her human emotions suppressed them, too sick with herself to eat food that would promptly be vomited across her parents pretty white bed spread. The door opened as she sat down on the bed, the springs moving with the pressure of her weight.

Her father stepped through the door, looking like a funeral director in his black suit. His eyes located Mallory and he smiled, the smile not quite reaching the corners of his mouth. Mallory turned her head slowly and glared at him. The smile faded and he stepped forwards.

"Is Laura okay?" His voice was littered with fatherly concern but he held his hand out, his intention clear. Mallory deepened her glare but surrendered the phone all the same.

"What did she want?"

Mallory didn't answer. Her father put the phone in his pocket and sat down on the springs next to her. Mallory cringed and felt the childish impulse to move away from him.

"Sweetie... you can't be mad at me forever."

Despite herself, Mallory's jaw opened with shock and she turned to face him. "Mad at you? I am _fucking furious_-"

Her father shook his head, reprimanding her. "Don't cuss."

The nerve of him. The Soldier within her that had so easily made it's way into her psychological makeup was egging her one, begging her to backhand him so hard she threw off his equilibrium and he wouldn't be able to walk without hearing bells ringing. The child within her wanted to scream and cry at him and ask him to stop being such an asshole.

"'Don't cuss?' Do you hear yourself?" She found herself springing up from the bed to a standing position, looking over her father from above to make herself seem bigger then she was. "This isn't something that can go away if you apologize enough, Dad!"

His mouth opened and closed as if he was shocked. Mallory continued regardless.

"This isn't something that can be easily fixed. You have lied to me, all my life about who are. You forced me into this-"

He held his hand up to stop her and despite herself, she did stop yelling. "Nobody forced you into the job, Mal."

"You knew I was desperate. You knew I would take anything going if it involved doing the work I love. And that job was so goddamn perfect I had to take it. So yeah, you kinda forced me. Pierce said you suggested me."" Mallory's glare hardened. "You had me take that poor man and make him fit for fieldwork which turned him into a killer!"

"The Soldier volunteered-"

Mallory laughed harshly, the shouting match resuming. "Oh, don't give me that bullshit! Pierce told me everything!"

Her father grew very silent. Unnervingly silent which pricked Mallory's curiousity to fall silent as well.

"Everything?" He asked, a little uncertain of himself. And Mallory suddenly became aware that there was still something they hadn't told her. She shouldn't of been surprised.

"Dad?"

"Pierce told you..." He seemed to have trouble getting the words out, swallowing hard and thickly. "... that he hadn't volunteered. Do you know who he is?"

Her father stood and Mallory backed away as if she was frightened he would hurt. It had seemed that the Soldier's former identity had been the least of his problems but now she wasn't so sure. If her father was so worried by Mallory knowing the truth about the Soldier's identity then that meant he was someone important. Someone she had maybe heard of perhaps? Or seen? Or known?

She tried to attach the face of the Soldier, in all of his bearded and long haired glory to a face she knew but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The Soldier was the Soldier and confusion flashed through her; what the hell was her father talking about?

"No."

Her father tugged at the collar that seemed to be causing him discomfort then he smiled, beginning to ramble. "Oh well that's good then. It's not like his identity is of any use to you."

When Mallory thought back to her childhood, there were some days that she felt like she had forgotten until the moment called for her to recall. This was such a time. It was a rare summer day in the sixth year of Mallory's life where her mother's social life and her father's holiday from work eclipsed each other, allowing the infant Mallory and the younger Sampson spend quality some time together. She remembered her father breaking the TV in their living room somehow and hiding its remains in their garage to be disposed of properly later. She also remembered her father hurriedly driving her to the nearest electrical store and purchasing a new TV that looked almost identical to their old one. Her father however had gotten Sony and Samsung mixed up and her mother was known in the inner circles of her knitting and debutante clubs to have the keenest eye for mistakes in all of the county. So when her mother arrived home and saw the TV, she demanded to know why a Samsung was sitting in the place of where her Sony was. And Mallory remembered, high and clear like a bell ringing on a church day, the exact tone her father had used to lie to her mother before he had confessed what had happened to their TV. The match that resumed, mainly because her father had lied, was one of the lighter arguments they'd had.

And that tone was the one he was using now. It had been his tell, his downfall in company poker games and ultimately the tool of manipulation between all members of his family.

"Liar."

He recoiled from her. "What?"

Mallory's voice was harder and low; almost like Natasha's normal speech patterns. "You are lying. I know when you're lying, Dad and you are lying right now. Tell me who he was."

Her father's lower lip wobbled with uncertainty, and he folded his arms. "It won't save him." It sounded like a threat.

"Tell him."

Her father had begun backing away from her as if she was going to hit him and Mallory followed him. He tugged at his collar multiple times and stumbled once or twice on their cream carpets.

"Sweetie, it won't make a difference. It doesn't matter-"

"If it doesn't matter than tell me."

Her father was so weak willed sometimes. He cracked with all of the bravo of an egg against a bowl. The man was a doormat, in constant fear of his employer and his colleagues but also his wife and seemingly meek daughter. Mallory was always told she took after her father but it seemed increasingly so she was taking after her mother, for her old tendencies to allow people to walk all over her constantly dissolving as the months passed, turning her into a strong willed woman she'd always aspired to be like.

"JAMES! His name is James."

The pair both stopped with their back and forwards dance. James. _Now the face had a name_. She pictured the human stare of the Soldier in her minds eye and nodded to herself. Yes, he looked like a James. But James what?

She quirked an eyebrow at him and her father surrendered easily, too easily. "James Buchanan Barnes. That's his name. He was a sergeant in the army."

Mallory frowned; the name meant nothing to her. Nothing at all. She'd never heard of a James Buchanan Barnes. Sure the name was reminiscent of an old president but that president had never been a sergeant in the army. Why had her father been so concerned about knowing his name? What did it mean? She cast her mind back hard and tried so desperately to think. It felt as if the fog of emotion was clouding her very human ability to think logically and clearly.

And then it hit her. The emotion cleared, giving way to an ice cold logic that splashed her brain wide awake and punctured a gasp out of her mouth that rattled her lungs. Like a ton of bricks over her head. Like coming up for air after being drowned. Like summer finally coming after a long winter. It felt like the universe had become a little less smaller and a lot more scarier. For a moment, the alignment of the planets no longer circled around the sun but around the Soldier and her. For one shining and one horrible moment the secrets of the universe were revealed to her. All the terror of the questions of the ages became as clear as the dawn breaking over the new pink sky. She knew everything but she also knew nothing. Mallory Smith, for one second, knew it all and it made her legs weak and her head spin and her stomach roil.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. _Bucky Barnes. _Her mind sent her back to the first time her father had regaled the tale of Captain America and his Howling Commandos. She remembered as clear as day the bones in her father's legs as she sat on his knee, and the feel of his hands that gently twisted and knotted her hair into odd plaits.

"_They called him Bucky."_

"_Why?" Mallory had always been curious._

"_To be honest, sweetie, I have no idea. But he was Captain America's best friend, much like Danni is yours. And he was the only Howling Commando to give his life to the service."_

The Winter Soldier was Bucky. Bucky was the Winter Soldier. The man she had spent the last six months caring and fussing and begging and crying over was the war hero, Bucky Barnes. Captain America's best friend. That was why he looked like he'd seen a ghost. It felt like days ago she had watched them brawl on the bridge but it had been hours, as she'd ran from the debris and watched them fight each other. The mask had fallen and the Captain had been so startled at the sight of his old friend he'd allowed them to be captured.

Mallory was ready to vomit. Tears blurred the world around her to a neutral smudge on a canvas, and Mallory's legs caved, weakening her to the point of falling. She hit the bed however, her hand cupping her mouth.

"_Oh my god._" It seemed appropriate, as the knowledge bestowed upon her felt like a gift from the God she had never believed in. "_Oh my god_."

Bucky Barnes had fallen from that train. And the Winter Soldier had been revived in his place. Mallory couldn't breathe. She had wished long ago for inside knowledge on everything she was doing but she had never expected this. One could know too much. Bucky Barnes, a war veteran, supposed to have been dead for almost eighty years was alive and well as a brainwashed assassin used by the very force he had given his life to extinguish. The irony had made a complete circle and she was _so fucking stupid_.

Her father was talking but Mallory couldn't hear him. All she heard was the Soldier – Bucky, she had to call him Bucky – screaming in her mind, the tortured anguish of a man having his memory wiped and she could feel blood dripping over her hands like it had on the birth of Ariadne's baby boy.

That's why he had been dreaming so often of falling in the snow. It was a memory, a relic of the man he once was and the heartache he had experienced as he had died. According to Zola's theory, which she had just proved mere hours ago when the Soldier – Bucky! - had remembered her, his memories were still there. And Steve Rogers, if he said the right thing at the right time, could make him believe it.

She glared at her father with a sudden hatred. The man had once seemed so gentle, so loving, so caring yet he was admitting that he had lied to her on so many levels. He was her father biologically yet he had severed all trust she could ever have with him. The road to repairing something like this would be substantial and Mallory wasn't sure, after Liam and Rumlow, that she'd be able to trust anybody but herself and her mother.

And maybe once his memory had been jogged, Bucky Barnes.

Her father knelt to where she sat on his bed, taking her hands. "Sweetheart-"

She pulled them away from his grip. "Don't touch me."

This was worse then what Rumlow had done to her. Yes he had invaded her privacy, her body, her mind but he'd done that from the start; her father was her father yet he'd still lied to her. She didn't yell or scream or hit him. She couldn't see him, his form melding into an empty void of nothing.

He was talking again. Lying most likely. Mallory couldn't hear her heartbeat or her breathing or her mother clattering about nosily downstairs preparing a meal. All she could hear was the familiar thrum of Natasha's engine outside as she parked. Mallory stood and her father curtailed his speech. He watched her as she walked across the bedroom and parted the curtains to glance outside. The car was up the street, black like the one Natasha had driven and parked illegally on the sidewalk that day that felt like ages ago, and Mallory could see Natasha's recognizable shade of auburn swinging as she turned her head to scan the street. Mallory turned.

"Sweetie, what are you doing?"

_They had come. They had come for her. _Mallory curled her hand into a fist. She knew what she was doing to go to the good side was wrong but it seemed it was the only way. Was a bad action for a good cause justified? She didn't know. As she propelled her fist forwards like the Soldier had taught her, she knew she didn't care. This was her way of revenge. She had once again unleashed a mere fraction of the rage that she had blocked with a wall and the force behind the punch was staggering for such a small woman. Her father's jaw clicked horribly and as he had not been anticipating such a lethal knockout, he fell backwards making no noise as he landed on the bed.

Mallory clamped a hand over her jaw, unwilling to cry once again but her vision misting the black and white of her father's suit into colours that melted together. She truly was a HYDRA agent it seemed. But redemption was coming.

She walked over and couldn't resist her loving urge to brush back her father's hair from his face. Slack jawed and with no visible wound bar from a nosebleed, he looked like he could be sleeping.

"I don't forgive you." She murmured, her hands sliding through his clean smelling hair as she knelt to press her lips to his head. "And I never will. But I love you, dad and I always will."

She left the room shutting the door. A calmness over took her, reminding her of her night shifts in A &amp; E when things began to get heavy. An eery calm akin to the serene silence before the tempest wages war on a city. Mallory went downstairs and found her mother switching the oven on.

"Mom."

Her mother cried with surprise and clutched her heart, making Mallory smiled. In a second, Mallory was pulled into her mothers arms.

"You had us so worried! Your father isn't telling me a thing about this stupid S.H.I.E.L.D business." Mallory stepped back and she watched her mother assess her over for any type of wounds and lick her finger, probing for dirt. "He said it's classified, Julie in that way of his ways and I said 'I don't give a damn if it's classified by the President himself. I'll take apart the entire agency with my bare hands if they hurt my girl'."

It was a feat Mallory would pay to see and she laughed, feeling calmer then she had in months. Gently, she removed her mother's hands from her face and clasped them, finding the smile that spread across her face came easily.

"I have to go back into the office. Dad said it's okay. I won't be back for a couple of days and you won't hear from me but I swear I'll be back. Okay?"

"Do you have to go? Surely someone else can sort it?"

_Nobody can sort it out, _she mused to herself as she forced herself to laugh. _It's I, the Captain and Natasha Romanoff against an entire government agency and a special black ops assassin who used to be the Captain's best friend. _Really, the situation was absurd.

"They want me there. I'll be fine. I promise." Her mother rolled her eyes and sighed, allowing her hands to drop in a way of telling her it was okay. "I love you."

Her mother repeated the sentiment. Mallory hated lying to her. Soon enough she would call her father down to dinner and when he wouldn't come, she'd go up to investigate and discover him still knocked out. Perhaps she'd call and ambulance. But her mother wasn't dumb, she'd know Mallory had done it and work out that her father refused to let her go. In turn, she would also discover that Mallory had lied to her. It was a price Mallory was willing to pay.

As she passed the coat rack, Mallory picked up what she assumed to be her father's black waterproof jacket. As she left the house and said a silent goodbye to the porch, Mallory rolled the sleeves up and crossed the street calmly towards the car. She opened the door and slid into the back, the leather seats comfortable and warm from the in car warmers.

"Did you get away okay?" Curiously, Natasha wasn't driving but in the passenger seat. She turned to face Mallory as she clasped her belt. Unable to form a coherent response, Mallory nodded.

Their hideout was a network of old tunnels just outside the city, brick entrance, unassuming. HYDRA could take years to search for them and they'd never find it, as the bricked up walls hid any type of ingoing and outgoing network signals and the walls too thick to allow any type of heat signatures escape. Natasha got out of the car first and Steve had opened the door for Mallory when she lingered a little.

"Thank you."

As the sunlight hit his hair, Mallory got the first proper in-the-flesh look at the Captain. There was a difference from seeing somebody in promotional posters or on TV then it was in real life. Posters could be photo-shopped, TV appearances edited to give certain impressions. But real life was exactly that and here Steve Rogers stood before her, a living breathing sculpture of patriotism. She knew from history lessons and trips to a museums that Rogers stood at six foot two but in the flesh he seemed even taller, and his 240lbs even bigger. His handsome features could not be denied; in the sun his hair was like fine strands of gold and styled carefully, his eyes bluer then the American flag, full lips and a pointed noise that reminded Mallory of an eagle's beak. As a single woman, Mallory found him attractive which was surprising considering she'd never been into blondes; all of her high school boyfriends had been brown haired, or in one case a ginger, Liam was a brunette and so was Rumlow. His physical intimidation could also not be denied; a huge man, with a shoulder to hip ratio that would make a wrestler feel insecure, the impression of a man of a who could beat you to a pulp without even breaking a sweat. But as he opened the car door for her, Mallory felt like even if she wasn't aware of his reputation, Rogers would not do such a thing.

"So." He said as Mallory scanned the rusted gate and decided the remaining S.H.I.E.L.D members were geniuses to pick this place. "You're HYDRA."

Mallory met his blue eyes and stared at him coolly, a trick she had learnt from spending so long with the Soldier. _The Soldier. _Guilt washed her. He knew the Soldier was Bucky but he didn't know Mallory's relationship with him. She'd tell him when they went inside; out here was no place for a conversation like that.

"Supposedly." Mallory turned to the slightly more friendlier looking Natasha. "This your base of operations?"

An amused smirk spread across the Widow's full lips. "For now. Shall we?"

Natasha led the way. Mallory unknowingly fell into step with the Captain who kept glancing over at her, unsure of her probably. Mallory had a feeling that because she had been HYDRA, Steve didn't trust her. She didn't blame him if she was honest. Mallory wouldn't trust herself if she was in his situation.

They entered a small room, where two black men and a white woman were sitting around a table. As Natasha led them through the opening, Mallory touched her arm.

"Did you get the wound patched up?"

Natasha turned and stopped walking to answer. "Yeah. We had some doctors on site. About the highway-"

"Don't worry about it. I don't blame you."

One of the men was the driver from the highway. The woman was in cargo pants and a black top with the STRIKE logo; she seemed to notice Mallory's shaking hands and smiled reassuringly. The other was Director Fury. Mallory's jaw dropped open.

"You're dead."

Fury smiled, looking amused and shared a glance with the woman who seemed both sympathetic and amused. "Nobody told me. I came back to life."

"The Soldier-" Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Steve stiffen. "-killed you. I was there when he left for that mission."

"He wounded me, Dr. Smith. And very good doctors brought me back to life. Your enemies can't kill you if you're already dead." She didn't ask how he knew her name. "Can we begin?" The woman turned to Fury and Fury nodded, gesturing for Mallory to take the free seat next to Natasha. The meeting had begun. There was a file on the table and Fury picked it up. Mallory spied a picture of Pierce on top, and when Fury pulled it out Mallory was imagining him being arrested to calm herself down. Fury stared at the picture for a while, before deciding on what he was going to say.

"This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize." Mallory allowed that to sink in; somebody actually offered it to him? "He said 'Peace was not an achievement, it was a responsibility."

He allowed the picture to fall from his hands to flutter onto the files and gave a pointed look to Natasha. "See it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues."

A corner of Natasha's mouth lifted in response and she said, "We have to stop the launch."

Mallory had felt like her presence was being humored her but she couldn't help herself but interrupt. "You mean Project INSIGHT? Pierce is adamant those Hellicarriers are getting in the air. Every HYDRA agent that isn't a tech is getting ready to launch."

Steve and the man she hadn't been introduced too shared a look and Fury spoke. "We were hoping you'd give us some inside information on HYDRA." The look in his eyes clearly stated he knew that was fruitless.

Mallory shrugged. "I was just a doctor. Nothing special. Looking after their top secret assassin but nothing more than that. I didn't know about INSIGHT till hours ago."

"You were in charge of Bucky?" Steve shouldered in, his eyes alight with interest. Mallory felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Yeah. I-"

"If we could… maybe talk about this later?" The woman in cargo pants said, her eyes pointedly glancing towards Fury, who was drumming his fingers on the table. Mallory and Steve nodded, and Fury sighed, moving on effortlessly.

"Anyway, I don't think the council's accepting my calls anymore." For the first time, Mallory noticed a briefcase sat beside him which he slid across the table and opened. Set into the foam encasing were three identical electronic chips.

The driver who had the wing pack vocalized her thoughts. "What's that?" He folded his arms and started forward.

The woman in cargo pants spoke, turning a laptop around to face the group as she explained. "Once the Hellicarriers reach three thousand feet, they'll triangulate with in-site satellites becoming fully weaponized." The laptop screen displayed what she was talking about and Mallory remembered what Pierce had told her about INSIGHT and it's aims; they would wipe out half the globe based on trouble pasts.

"We need to breach those carriers and replace those targeting blades with our own."

The woman spoke again. "One or two won't cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this work because if even one of those ships remains operational-" She folded her arms and sighed, "-a whole lot of people are gonna die."

"We have to assume everybody aboard those carriers is HYDRA." The tension in the group tightened just a little at the prospect of murdering and arresting all those onboard even if they were innocent. "We have to get past them and insert these server blades and maybe, just maybe we can salvage what's left-"

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by an angry Steve.

"We're not salvaging anything. We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick, we're taking down S.H.I.E.L.D."

Fury's bruised face tightened with confusion. "S.H.I.E.L.D had nothing to do with this." Mallory almost laughed. S.H.I.E.L.D had everything to do with this, as S.H.I.E.L.D was HYDRA now. The rest of the group remained silent.

Steve was getting angrier. "You gave me this mission. This is how it ends." He looked around impressively to accent his words. "S.H.I.E.L.D's been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed."

Fury looked to the rest of the group for some type of support then focused a hardening gaze on Steve. Mallory knew she wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of such a gaze. "Why do you think we're meeting in this cave?" His voice became harder and louder and tighter with pain. "I noticed."

Steve grew silent before speaking calmly. "How many paid the price before you did?"

The tension thickened and Mallory knew he was talking about. Guilt welled inside her and the image of the metal armed and cool eyed assassin wandered across her memory.

Fury's voice brought her back to the presence and he had the grace to sound ashamed. "Look, I didn't know about Barnes."

Steve didn't want to hear it.

"Even if you had, would've have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too?" It was clearly a hint to a previous conversation between the two. "S.H.I.E.L.D, HYDRA it all goes."

She agreed with him there. Cutting out the cancerous growth within S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't be enough. Once word got out that S.H.I.E.L.D had once been the host to HYDRA the public would never trust them again. Something old must be destroyed before something new can take its place. It was a familiar saying and oddly, she remembered Pierce saying it when he'd been on the phone to somebody and she'd overheard him. The irony cut her like a knife.

The woman glanced at Fury with a softness in his eyes. "He's right." She nodded at him and it seemed she also agreed with Steve. Fury was clearly hiding the temptation to roll his eyes, and he swung his accusing gaze to Natasha. She didn't choose to say anything, merely sliding in her chair and it was obvious from her face where she stood on the subject. Fury's jaw tightened and he looked over to the unnamed and handsome driver from the highway.

"Hey don't look at me." He looked at Steve. "I do what he does, just slower."

Mallory smiled at him as Fury and Steve shared a look that made the decision for him. Fury laughed suddenly, softly and lent back in his chair. "Well. Looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain."

It seemed to be the end of the meeting. Steve turned and stalked out of the cave to go off on his own and Mallory took it as her chance. She waited until he seemed to be down the corridor for her to follow him, her heart fluttering nervously.

He acted like he wasn't aware of her presence as she trailed behind him but Mallory knew he knew she was there as when he passed through the gate to go outside, he left the door open for her. Mallory shut the rusted door and watched as the Captain slowly walked across the bridge that topped a dam of sorts. Mallory had no idea where they were but it was peaceful, the only noises being both of their brains ticking over and birds taking flight.

She stood next to him as he was lost in thought. "I was there, you know. On the bridge. When you saw him for the first time."

Steve didn't say anything. He just swallowed tightly and continued looking ahead.

"I don't blame you for not trusting me but I want you to know that I... I didn't have a clue who I was working for." He finally turned his head, aware her throat had cracked and she was fighting back tears for what felt like the millionth time today. "My dad and Pierce and Rumlow all told me that HYDRA was a sub-divison of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Didn't you know what HYDRA was, from the stories of… me and the Commandos in the war?" His voice was harsh and the lump in Mallory's throat got bigger.

"My dad told me those stories. He never said who the organization was. And if I was honest, I never really had that much interest in history." She looked out on the vast expanse of the forest. "If only I'd researched it..."

If she didn't say it now she never would. She took a deep breath and turned to him fully, feeling lightheaded and afraid. "I knew him, as the Soldier. I knew him well."

Steve stiffened, his entire body going rigid with understanding. His glare found her and it was harsh, lava rolling across her but she felt better now that she had gotten it out.

The story came tumbling. "His old doctor, Dr. Harriet was killed for becoming too active. I'd just been made redundant and my dad hired me. The job seemed perfect, looking after a dormant creature in a coffin that would only need to be woken every now and again."

Steve's mouth twitched. "And that didn't register as being completely unethical to you?"

Mallory defended herself. "You have to understand, Steve, they told me he had volunteered. They said he had volunteered long ago and he had agreed to memory wipes so that his past life wouldn't come into play."

Steve's fists tightened, "And none of that seemed suspicious?"

"I was stupid, I know." Mallory swallowed, and said, "I thought he'd be strong. And then I woke him for the first time and he was... so... _pathetic_. I felt _sorry_ for him. I wondered why anybody would choose such a life. And then I-" She remembered the pizza, the prison, how he had briefly laughed at her and slept with her and saved her life. "- got to know him and he was, despite what he tried to come across as, so human. And he was my friend."

"Everyone I knew lied to me. They even got a HYDRA agent to become my boyfriend to make me one of them." He was unwilling to look at her. "The Soldier- _Bucky_ was the only one who told me the truth. Well, his truth."

She broke off, remembering his howls of pain. As she shuddered and shook with sobs, sympathy painted Steve's face and he laid a hand on her shoulder without looking for her and squeezed tightly; the firm contact grounded her and halted the flow of tears as she regained some control.

"It's okay. I believe you." He murmured. Mallory couldn't speak, nodding with pain and wrapping her arms around herself as a sudden chill took the air. The pair stood together, and Mallory wanted to leave Steve in a brooding silence when the man she hadn't met approached them.

"You're Mallory?" He stepped forward and finally introduced himself. "I'm Sam. Sam Wilson."

His firm was grip as she shook it and she silently thanked him for not mentioning the state of her red eyes or her wet cheeks. "Mallory Smith. I saw you on the bridge with a wing-pack? Please tell me I wasn't hallucinating."

Sam smiled. He had a nice smile, mischevious. "Nope. That's my gear. The Captain's got his shield, Natasha her thighs and I've got my wings."

The trio smiled. Mallory felt herself invading on her private conversation and made to leave when Sam spoke. "He's gonna be there, you know."

Steve's voice was hard when he answered. "I know."

Mallory planted her feet in the ground and turned to eavesdrop so obviously but the pair were too wrapped up in each other to concentrate.

"Whoever he used to be... the guy he is now... I don't think he's the kind you save. He's the kind you stop."

_No he isn't. He can be saved. _But Sam didn't know that. Neither did Steve to be honest. They only saw what the Soldier projected when he was working, the cold hearted assassin who could kill you with a stroke. They hadn't seen his weakness in the prison. Despite his reluctance to be touched, Mallory was aware he did indeed crave contact. He was the one who had suggested sleeping together, who had held her tighter then she'd intended and Mallory hadn't – if she was being brutally honest which she decided she was going to be from now on – minded. In fact in hindsight she wished she had held him back. It had felt at the time like she was cheating on Rumlow and she had always known why. Her feelings for James, Bucky or whoever the hell he was confused her. Was this just a friendship which she was determined to salvage? Or was it something more? She remembered the tender moments in the prison as she brushed a lock of hair from his face and smiled in the dark. She remembered thinking about him at inappropriate moments, most notably when Rumlow was inside of her and groaning in the dark of her bedroom. At the time she had put it down to her nature to care for him but as she really thought about it, had he been in her thoughts because she had wanted him there? Had her subconscious fought against her and tried to show her what she wanted? She didn't know. She knew she cared for him but she didn't know in what way. Romance and friendship with anybody of the opposite sex, she had found, always had a way of coming back around to primal instincts and the mating rituals of old. All of her old boyfriends in high school had started out with an uneasy friendship.

"I don't know if I can do that." Steve brought her to the present and she almost cheered.

"He might not give you a choice." She tried not to hate what Sam was saying. "He doesn't know you."

Mallory couldn't help herself. "He could."

Both Steve and Sam whirled to her. "What?"

"I'm not an expert on brainwashing science but I read up on it when I worked for HYDRA." She explained, remembering the moment in the lab when he'd said her name and her fate was decided for her. "The electrical stimuli the patient receives during the treatment merely suppresses the hippocampus." Meeting Steve and Sam's confused looks she simplified it down. "Basically, the electric shocks he got during the treatment sort of drowned out the memory part of his brain."

"Meaning?" Steve asked.

Mallory bit her lip. "On it's own it doesn't mean anything. But, Zola, the man who invented the technology, theorized that the memories could be retrieved with the application of something that would conjure up an emotional attachment."

Sam folded his arms, seeming unconvinced. "All we got to work with is a theory?" Steve's face fell and Mallory felt glad when his eyes lit up at her next statement.

"It was until about three hours ago."

Steve advanced on her. "You recovered his memory? How?"

Mallory didn't want to remember his howls of pain, but she want to recall shoving Rumlow from her.

"They'd just wiped him and he asked who I was; I introduced myself as Dr. Smith. I was with Rumlow – my boyfriend at the time and I finally told him what I thought of him in front of the Soldier."  
"You too argue a lot in front of him?" Sam said, smiling. Mallory grinned back, and bit her lip.

"No. It wasn't what was happening that triggered him, it was what I said. I called Rumlow a monster, something which I'd called the S- _Bucky_ a while ago. He must've been affected by it, because he remembered who I was and he could recall some things we'd done together. I believe over time, he could remember everything."

Steve turned to Sam, who was looking back uncertainly. "You'd have to get close to him. Really close. Dangerously close. Steve, this is the only guy in the world who can match you on the field."

"I can try."

Sam was persistent. "It might not work. He might not remember you."

"He will." Steve turned away, the decision final in his eyes and posture. "Gear up! It's time."

So soon? Mallory and Sam exchanged looks.

"You gonna wear that?" Sam called mockingly, trying to make light of the situation. Yet Steve still stayed grim and he turned to them, continuing to walk across the bridge and into the forest.

"No. If you're gonna fight a war you gotta wear a uniform."

He disappeared beyond the tree line. Mallory and Sam were left in a silence and Mallory could feel the waves of tension.

"You don't agree with me telling him about that, do you?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I don't. Nothing against you it's just I don't wanna see him get hurt."

"Mentally or physically?" She knew the Soldier could match Steve move by move.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at her. "Both."

The two laughed at the absurdness of the situation and when they fell silent, Mallory composed her face. "He'll remember. He remembered me and he's only known me for six months. He's known Steve for what, years? Since childhood?"

He nodded then said. "Well, I hope you're right."

A/N: The one time out of a thousandth I've promised I publish date and it has been met! Summer is a wonderful thing


	18. This is the End

Maria Hill, the other female agent who finally introduced herself, ran through the full plan to get the Hellicarriers off air. Sam and Steve would carry the chips and take the Hellicarriers off air; the remaining agents loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D would do all they could to hold off the STRIKE and HYDRA teams. Maria would run interference and support from a base just off the launch site. At the same time, Natasha would attend a meeting disguised as one of the Security Council members to surprise Pierce and keep him in custody until Nick arrived to deliver his own brand of justice and access the full archives to dump onto the internet. Unsurprisingly, everybody was reluctant to put Mallory on the ground with them.

Mallory however was less so. This was partly her fault and she was determined to see this through to the end. "Surely there's somewhere you could put me."

Maria sighed. "No offense, Mallory, but I can't authorize a civilian on the ground. If you got hurt or you died, it would be on my conscience and I can't deal with that."

"I'm a HYDRA agent, or I was. I've been in the field before, I can handle it." Her memory gently reminded her of all the nights she had spent crying over her field missions, but she knew that this mission wouldn't be as personal as her last. Natasha narrowed her eyes at Mallory – she knew how hard it had been for Mallory to be in the field – but thankfully she didn't say anything.

"You have?" Her surprise was insulting but Mallory was used to it.

"Yeah. With the Soldier." Mallory explained and she noticed Natasha's fists tightening in the background. "We were tasked – well he was – with eliminating a man who was blackmailing Pierce. I was there for… support."

"And you were okay with that?" The accusation in her statement was rife.

"No, as a matter of fact. Once I found out that he was only do it to rescue his pregnant wife and daughter from the prison's experiments, I made a bit of a stink about it!" Mallory winced at the rising tone of her voice and the steel within. Maria's frame hunched a little and she exchanged an awkward looking glance with Natasha.

Her guilt won over. "I'm sorry. I just... I'm sick of being painted the bad guy."

"You never were." Natasha tried to smooth it over and Mallory laughed harshly, running a hand through her hair.

"Yes I am. I see the way all of you look at me like I'm sort of social pariah." Mallory folded her hands. "I don't blame you if I'm honest, I'd do the same. I suppose it makes me sound completely stupid if I didn't realize who or what I was working for. My job was to protect and look after the Soldier – anything else seemed trivial."

Maria looked at her thoughtfully then spoke. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way. And I want you to know that everybody here believes you."

"I tried to put up a fight for Kohl. And he promised he'd try." Mallory sighed. "He's a good man, really, under all of his toughness. He still killed him but I can't exactly blame him for that. I blamed Pierce."

Maria and Natasha exchanged a look that Mallory didn't quite understand. Natasha walked back to the table and took the seat next to Maria, casually leaning back and placing a hand on the table as Maria continued cleaning her gun.

"Can I ask you a question? Without you taking offense?"

Mallory swallowed, suddenly nervous and nodded.

"Do you love him?"

Her first thought was of Rumlow and she must've looked confused as Natasha elaborated. "The Soldier. Bucky. Do you love him?"

Mallory's throat tightened up horribly. She'd be musing on her feelings about him before yet they were still unanswered. To be honest, she wasn't sure. Probing deeper in the vast expanse of her subconscious warranted no further clarity to her true feelings. She could narrow it down to that she did indeed care for him but to what length? Sisterly love? Romantic love? Friendship love? Mallory chose her words carefully.

"I don't not love him." A double negative which caused Maria to smile and Natasha to crack up with laughter. "But I'm not in love with him. I don't think. He's my friend. I think. And I think I love him like that. Am I making sense?"

"No." Natasha said, between laughs.

"You just sound confused." Maria added, continuing cleaning her gun but meeting Mallory's eyes with a knowing smile.

"I am confused." Mallory admitted. "So confused. I know I care about him but I don't know how. I'm confused about everything nowadays."

Natasha, interested, lent forwards. "What else confuses you?"

Mallory looked off in the distance, Rumlow's face swirling in her mind. "My feelings mainly. About Rumlow. About my dad, HYDRA, the Soldier, this operation. I just feel like I can't concentrate anymore."

She hated Rumlow with the passion of a thousand burning suns but if he told her he loved her and kissed her and took her into his arms again, she knew deep down she'd go weak at the knees and allow him too. She hated her father as well but knew if he said sorry enough and seemed like he meant it eventually she would stop trying to throw drinks over him at family weddings and funerals.

And the Soldier. She cared for him too much but once this had all blown over and miraculously everybody had survived and he had remembered everything, if she found him in her bed waiting for her could she turn him down? An image suddenly broke free of shackles she wasn't aware she'd chained up of her writing beneath him with pleasure as he thrust into her and breathed her name. It wasn't an image she wanted to see right now but it was also not unpleasant to witness. Her head hurt. She chained the image back up.

"Can I give you some advice to help you?" Natasha stirred her out of her thoughts and Mallory nodded eagerly. "Forget it for now. We all have our problems. I'm not going to admit mine and neither is Hill here but we all have them. Just push it to the back of your mind. Focus on our task."

Maria, nodding, added, "Because ultimately, whatever the hell you are feeling is miniscule compared to the mission we face."

They were unkind words but delivered kindly and Mallory knew she was right. Mallory nodded, attempting to suppress all her mind whirring and focus on the mission at hand. Maria and Natasha exchanged another look and Nat shrugged.

"I could watch her." She looked to Mallory. "You know how to use a gun?"

Mallory nodded, remembering all the back yard lessons that had constituted her daughter-father bonding time. She was thankful Nat didn't have the time to ask if Mallory would actually use it. Natasha nodded at Maria.

"I could watch her." She repeated yet Maria still looked unsure. "We'll have the drop on him. We just need to drum up a disguise for her to get her inside."

"Same one as yours?"

Mallory tuned out as they made plans, her mind attempting to clear itself as she felt anxious feelings drum in her stomach. Soon they would be heading off and what Mallory would be doing was unknown to her. The plan was simple but even the best of plans failed and... he would be there. Steve seemed so sure of himself that he wouldn't be able to hurt him but despite all of his brainwashing and torture he had suffered at the hands of HYDRA, the Winter Soldier was still a man who had committed terrible, crimes. Would Steve be able to stop himself once he learnt of Oswick and Kohl's deaths? If the Soldier went after Wilson first and it was life or death, would Steve pick his living and levelheaded friend over the broken one? Mallory wasn't sure. Steve stood for justice, and he stood for freedom but the price of freedom was high. The prospect of the Soldier's death seemed nonexistent after Steve had proclaimed he would try and get him back but now... it seemed so obvious. Images of his agony, by a gunshot wound or perhaps a well placed knife after being caught of guard by either Sam or Steve brought tears to her eyes. Thinking about his death was painful to her.

_Push it to the back of your mind. _Easier said then done but Mallory tried and ultimately succeeded to switch back to primal commands. The mission. The plan. What was at risk. Mallory pushed her hair from her face and interrupted the two women as they ran through her involvement.

"I have an idea. About what I should do."

She looked up from where she had been staring at the floor and noticed Steve was back, suited in his old uniform he'd worn during the war with Sam beside him, pulling goggles back from his face to see them better. Both women had changed as well; Maria in a S.H.I.E.L.D issued jumpsuit, Natasha in a royal blue jacket and skirt with jewelery that was far too old for her.

"What?" Maria's mouth was pressed into a thin line as she surveyed Mallory's shaky stand to cross the room to reach Natasha. The women clearly disagreed with Mallory's involvement but under Natasha's assurance she had relented to allow her in the field.

"Give me my old phone. I need to make a call when we get there."

"To who?"

"Rumlow."

Maria and Natasha exchanged worried glances and Steve folded his arms.

"Planning on double crossing us?" Sam asked, the only one with a smiling face. Mallory appreciated his lighthearted humor and smiled up at him.

"I wouldn't be a very good double crosser if I told you that." Mallory sighed. "No. I can keep him out of your way. He's dangerous."

Steve nodded thoughtfully, eyes wistful as if he was remembering something. "I know. He's lethal."

"How do you know that?" Mallory eyed him critically. Steve tilted his head and stared at her until it clicked. "Oh. Sorry my ex-Nazi boyfriend tried to kill you."

"Not kill." He shrugged and acted as if they were talking about something casual, like the weather or the state of American politics. "Just maim."

Mallory tried to hide her laugh but failed. Natasha folded her arms and nodded. "Good choice. Rumlow will keep you safe till we can pick you both up afterward."

"Do you think he'll realize I'm playing him?"

Natasha shook her head and spoke grimly. "No. He'll be too blinded with love to realize the obvious."

Mallory pulled up on the sidewalk of the Triskelion and observed the building from the tinted windows of the white Rolls Royce. The entrance was only reachable by a long highway and as they rolled through it both had already applied their disguises. Natasha was disguised as a councilwoman who had been diverted from the meeting by a team of S.H.I.E.L.D hackers who were still loyal to the agency. As her features changed and her voice heightened in pitch, Mallory found a chuckle escape her lips.

"What?" The technology enhanced voice of Nat asked self-consciously.

"Nothing it's just you look nothing like yourself."

Natasha laughed. Mallory freed a hand off the wheel to smooth back her hair. Her clothing was a large jacket worn over her worn-down tank top and some oversized pants that covered her already cargo pants. She kept the shoes on however, guessing that nobody in the Triskelion would look at a lowly chauffeur's shoes. In her right ear nestled a small gray microphone that connected her with everybody who was in on the plan apart from, weirdly, Fury.

Natasha's new face grew serious and she lent forward, the leather seats crinkling. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Okay but make it quick, we're on a time limit here." Mallory turned in the front seat and smiled at her.

A smile crinkled Natasha's new mouth and grew even more serious. "If your dad turns out to be there-" Mallory froze and gripped the wheel ever so slightly, her knuckles beginning to bleach white. "- you do realize we're going to have to take him into custody once this is over?"

The lighthearted tone snapped in an instant and Mallory suddenly could feel the ghost of her fist to her father's face lingering on her knuckles. Mallory dropped her eyes, unable to answer Natasha's brazen stare. She looked at the wheel, attempting to decipher the answer in the emblem imprinted on the wheel. When she finally gathered her courage she looked up and answered Natasha with a curt nod.

"He's HYDRA so he gets arrested." _My poor mother. _Mallory vowed to explain everything to her once this was over. "I know that. But what about me? I was HYDRA. Do I get arrested?"

Natasha clearly hadn't thought of that as she frowned. After a moments silence of deep thought, she attempted a smile.

"I'll vouch for you. We all will, at the investigation. I'll say that we offered you immunity if you helped us with inside knowledge. We all know you were deceived into being HYDRA and that any crime you committed was unbeknownst to you."

As far as she knew Mallory had offered little inside knowledge apart from informing Steve of the Soldier's weaknesses with his mind to help him get his friend back. This neither helped nor hindered the larger mission so it didn't really count. And nobody had offered her immunity for taking part here; she had wanted too, to clear her guilty conscience. To be honest, a lifetime in jail for whatever crimes they pinned against wasn't desirable but it was no less then what she deserved. Before Mallory could open her mouth, her earpiece crackled and Maria's voice rang out.

"Is she inside yet?"

"She can hear you, you know." Natasha said. Mallory was glad of the distraction and rolled her eyes at Natasha.

"No, she's still here but we're leaving now."

"Hurry. We're on a time limit."

"I know."

Maria sighed and spoke again. "Are you sure you can do this? See him again, I mean?"

Inside Mallory wanted to answer no but she knew Maria would force her to stay away from the ensuing chaos so she nodded and spoke as confidently as she could manage, "Yes I'm sure."

"Okay." Despite the lie, Maria still sounded uneasy. Natasha got out of the car and walked without a backward glance to Mallory in the car to make it seem more legit. She greeted Pierce who waited for her at the entrance and Mallory took a deep breath before fishing her mobile out of her pocket and finding the number that had called her around fifty times in her absence. His name flashed up, only his second name, alongside a picture she had taken of him in her month absence from Department X. Her heart swelled uncomfortably at the sight of him and Mallory found herself, in the silence before the storm, flicking through pictures on her phone.

Amongst old photos of her parents at family gatherings and pictures of Mallory and friends who had long abandoned her, he seemed to have invaded everywhere. Most pictures were of them during impromptu trips to bars or picture marathons in her apartment. Mallory was an isolated young women, reaching out to only her family and Rumlow and the Soldier and it showed so obviously in her photo album. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she came face to face with a photo some stranger taken of them in a darkened bar, the flash of the camera illuminating his Cheshire cat grin as he encircled her with his arms. Mallory was looking at the camera, smiling, oblivious to the look of love he was giving her that even now still seemed real. _Did you mean it, Rumlow? Did you mean any of it?_

"Mallory? Mallory are you there?"

She jumped in her seat and wiped her eyes, clearing her throat before answering. "Yes, yes, Maria I'm here. What's up?"

"We have the post. Steve's making the speech."

Mallory nodded to herself and wound down the window of the Royce, the faint buzz of the tannoy audible even outside of the headquarters.

"Attention all S.H.I.E.L.D agents, this is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down but I think it's time you know the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and INSIGHT crew are HYDRA as well."

This was her cue but she had to listen. It felt good for someone to be saying it out loud, the suspicions she had known and the dirt she had been working for. For Mallory it was a cathartic release of a rotten core inside her, a weight of her shoulders and a pressure release in her heart, a metaphorical sigh of relief. Even if she hadn't revealed it herself, the mere sound of somebody telling the world of the danger they had been working for was brilliant. Mallory, for what felt like the first time in ages, finally felt like the good guy. She was helping the heroes achieve their mission to save the world from HYDRA's control, a control she had helped to put into place.

"I don't know how many more but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want; absolute control. They shot Nick Fury and it won't end there. If you launch those Hellicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in there way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. The price of freedom is high it always has been and it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one then so be it... but I'm willing to bet I'm not."

Mallory lent back in her seat and albeit a little late, rang the number.

He didn't pick up. That was surprising. She believed even if he had lied to her, the fifty missed calls she had received from him would put him on standby. She tried again, and heard the distant crackle of gunfire. Her head snapped up, alongside other S.H.I.E.L.D agents who did the same. Mallory undressed, ripping the chauffeur's pants and jacket off to the reveal the clothes beneath. Mallory got out of the car, switched her phone on vibrate and put it in the cargo pocket on her pants. She fingered the holster of her handgun as she crossed the footpath as inconspicuously as possible and entered the building.

Nobody looked at her. Nobody noticed her as a low murmur picked up after the Captain's speech. Most agents she was pleased to note were on the side of Steve and were making plans to start curtailing the launch of the ships. As she crossed the lobby and tried Rumlow's number again, an agent in front of caught her eye and tilted his head. Recognition flared in his eyes, and as Mallory's inner alarm began to wail, he pulled out a handgun and fired a shot.

She dropped. Instinctively, surprisingly. The Soldier's training of their short lived and painful Russian mission flicked a switch inside of her that had her running across the lobby like some half-starved Celtic warrior, a war cry uttering from her lips. She reached him in seconds. She crashed into the agent without thinking and the pair went wrestling for his gun onto the ground. Instincts she never knew she had were directing her movements, a primal instinct to protect herself. She smashed the butt of her handgun against his temple and the man crumpled beneath her, the body she straddled between her legs going limp and weak with unconsciousness. As the primal instincts of fight-or-flight wore off, Mallory clamped a hand over her mouth with shock and backed away. That was the second time today she had knocked someone out. The agents around her looked stunned.

"HYDRA." She said, to the nearest male agent who seemed to have trouble closing his mouth. She put the handgun back in the holster and felt Maria's voice crackle in her ear.

"They're initiating launch."

_Shit_. Mallory pressed the button in her ear and said almost breathlessly. "Are they out there yet?"

"Yeah. They have the chips and they're ready to go."

"Natasha?"

There was a pause as Mallory assumed Maria called up the surveillance footage. "She's okay. The other council members are turning on Pierce and it won't be long before she has him in custody and starts dumping data online."

"About time." Mallory sighed. "And Rumlow?"

"One second, let me find him." There was a strained silence as Maria located the agent in question. "Got him. He's heading out of the INSIGHT launch room near the lobby yelling at someone over his comm and- oh now he's checking his phone. He's stopped yelling. Stopped walking actually. You have an effect on him. He looks like he's about to cry. How many times did you call him?" There was a hint of accusation in her tone.

Mallory shrugged. "Three, four. Don't remember."

"Well expect a call right now because he's dialling you back." Her curt tone switched off and a second later Mallory's phone began to sing her favourite song by Nicki Minaj. She let it play for a few seconds, ducking into a storage cupboard in the lobby to answer the phone amongst the distant rattle of gunfire. As she took a breath to calm herself, she pressed the green button on the screen and in an instant the worried voice of Rumlow entered her ear.

"Mallory?" He sounded a thousand years old and weary.

She paused for effect then sighed. "Hey."

The sigh of relief that Rumlow released was loud and he sounded so genuinely relieved that Mallory had to give him kudos for his acting skills. "Jesus Christ – you scared the crap out of me, baby. Where are you? Your dad said-"

The knowledge that him and her father had been in communication angered her.

"I'm in the Triskelion." It was hard sounding as if she didn't want to shoot him.

"What? The Triskelion... where? Where are you? Whereabouts?" He was panicking. Mallory stayed silent for another moment to let him suffer.

In her other ear she heard Maria bark, "He's coming through the lobby, looking for you. Natasha has neutralized Pierce and revealed herself."

Mallory didn't answer Maria but rather Rumlow. "I'm in the lobby." She exited the cupboard and walked shakily across the room, scanning to see him before he could see her. "Can you see me?"

In the briefest of moments before he spotted her, Mallory saw him over by the large S.H.I.E.L.D sign in the lobby. The concern on his face was undeniable and Mallory could feel her heart thudding in her chest with nerves and love. And then as his head swung around and he saw her, his sprint towards her would beat the fastest record in history as he reached her before she'd blinked and thrown himself at her.

The impact was both physical and emotional. The pair swayed and rocked with the momentum of his run, the only thing keeping each other from hitting the ground were each other. Even though they had touched thousands of times it had never felt so desperate, so real and so horrible at the same time.

"I was so worried about you. I thought you were done with me." His words were spoke somewhere between her neck and shoulders.

As much as her skin crawled and tingled she held him tighter. "No. I was for a moment-" They broke away for him to cradle her face in his hands, eyes searching her for any visible wounds. "- But I just couldn't, I just couldn't stay away from you."

"You believe me don't you? That I love you?"

She wanted to shake her head but she nodded wordlessly. Rumlow smiled, breaking her heart even further. As this happened, her earpiece crackled and Natasha's voice patched through.

"Hill said you're with him so don't answer but I have Pierce under control. Data dump commencing."

Mallory didn't react as she processed this information and an alarm started wailing from somewhere within the lobby. Agents that hadn't already scattered began to run properly through the halls and in the distance the crackle of gunfire was growing louder by the second. Rumlow cocked his handgun and motioned for her to follow him.

"Come on. We gotta keep moving."

Mallory nodded and followed him as he lead her across the lobby to a staircase where he began moving upwards. As they did, Mallory bide her time eyeing his cargo pants pockets until she couldn't wait any longer.

"Did my dad call you? About what I did?"

He was concentrating on checking the stairs for any intruders so it took him a moment to reply. "Yeah. You fractured his jaw."

Guilt consumed her alongside pride. "I heard it crack."

"Where did you? We were in the middle of organizing a manhunt till Pierce called." Mention of his name and the acts he had done to her Soldier made her ball her fists but she gritted her teeth and tried to control herself.

"I just went for a walk to clear my head. Started thinking about you. Almost got lost. I remembered INSIGHT's launch and figured you'd be here."

He turned slightly, to smile at her over his shoulder then headed up the next flight of stairs. Mallory sighed.

"Can I call him?"

"Who?" Distraction laced his tone.

"My dad, who else? He isn't answering my calls."

Rumlow dropped his steadying hand from the grip of the handgun and stopped on the stairs, patting around each pockets of his cargo pants till he located the phone. With a hand he unclasped the button and passed it to her, then rearranged his stance to a guarding one as she made the call. Mallory carefully dialed the number and listening to the ringing sound as it faded off and the monotone voice told her it wasn't available.

She tried three times before surrendering. "Huh. Must've switched it off."

The earpiece crackled again as she handed the phone back.

"One Hellicarrier is down. Air support is on its way."

Mallory didn't answer but as they ascended the stairs to the twenty first floor she smiled and felt the warm glow of hope ignite in her. It would all be over soon. Cameras on the staircase meant Maria was tracking her every move and despite his violent nature, she knew Rumlow would never physically hurt her no matter how mad he was at her.

"Two down."

Rumlow kept silent as he took the stairs ahead of her, checking behind each corner. As she walked behind him, despite her better judgement and Natasha's advice, she couldn't help but ponder him. She realized now that everything she knew about him could most possibly be a lie. How his birthday might be in a different month then June. His past pet, the yellow Lab that his landlord had forced him to get rid off. Even his favourite colour could be a lie. She wondered how many times he had gritted his teeth to force out another lie expressing pleasure at what she was saying.

Then the earpiece crackled again. "Air support is gone." Mallory's mouth went horribly dry. "Barnes is here."

As she and Rumlow came out of the stairway and headed along a corridor, he motioned for her to stay there as a man from around the corner shouted loudly through a phone and some others hurried in the alarm punctured silence. With a fury she had only seen matched with Barnes, he swung around and disabled all three targets with his prowess with knives.

"Mal, it's safe."

She turned the corner and stepped over the fallen bodies. His radio crackled and as somebody informed him of a breach in the security council, Mallory bent by the nearest body and checked his pulse. Weak, but still alive. She hoped the rescue mission that would inevitably follow this fuck up would get to him in time.

"Come on."

Mallory followed him back to the staircase which they'd came and she noted he moved with determination, a lethal objective in mind instead of the former target of sanctuary. She folded her arms. "We just came this way."

"Council's been breached by the Widow." He reasoned as they passed the digit thirty four on the stairs and rounded the corner. "Need to deal with her."

Who would win in a fight between Rumlow and Nat? She wasn't sure. Maybe if Nat got the drop on Rumlow she'd come out on top easy but Rumlow had the surprise advantage and he would go in all guns blazing – Nat was a stealth killer, a spy, an agent. Rumlow belonged to STRIKE, who were tactical. She glanced wordlessly at the cameras on the stairwells, and second later in answer, her earpiece crackled.

"He won't get anywhere near her. Falcon's been grounded and he's heading your way."

She wasn't sure what the pararescueman could do in a fit against Rumlow but she hoped it worked. Usually, two against one were favorable odds even if one member of the team refused to shoot a gun against bad guys. _But then again_, she reminded herself, _look at how you took down that guy in the lobby_. Without hesitation and if she had hit him any harder she would've caused brain damage. It was frightening that she had done that.

Speaking into the mic, Rumlow broke her thoughts. "I'm on 41, heading for the southwest stairwell."

As he stepped through the door, his foot holding it open for Mallory behind him out of nowhere a large fist sprung out and a yelp of pain landed Rumlow on the floor. Sam, she could see from the back of his head and the shirt he was wearing, and Rumlow had a brief scuffle before Rumlow caught him in the head with his own head and sent Sam sliding across the smooth tiled floor. As he stemmed the blood from his nose, he looked to Mallory.

"Get over her." Mallory obeyed. "You alright?"

Before she could answer, Rumlow started toward her. "You know him?" Then it clicked into place. "You're with them?!"

"Did you really think I would forgive you that quickly?" Anger overtook her and her hand sprung out slapping him hard across the fast. It was a release, akin to an orgasm or a sneeze, a feeling of euphoria followed with a calm she had not felt in a while.

He clicked his jaw back into place but he seemed calmer than her when he slowly turned his head toward her. "I suppose I deserved that. And when you read about all this and you see how they're going to paint me as the bad guy, I want you to know from the bottom of my heart, that I meant every single word of what I said to you."

"Liar." She spat.

"It's true." He looked uneasily from Sam to Mallory. "I don't want you to watch this." And then before she had time to react he had leapt forwards and grabbed her wrist, and then slapping those snap handcuffs on her to a pole that was nailed to the table. Helpless, Mallory could only watch and struggle against the bindings as he shifted into a deadly agent preying on a man who already looked as if he had lost.

Rumlow unzipped his jacket and threw it to the floor. "This is gonna hurt. There are no prisoners with HYDRA. Just order and order only comes through pain. You ready for yours?"

The moment was intended to be dramatic but Sam spat out blood and looked disgusted at him. He looked toward Mallory, his face now resembling a semi concerned and frustrated expression before he looked back to Rumlow who now stood dancing on the balls of his feet like a boxer, gearing himself up for what looked like an almighty clash.

"Man, shut the hell up."

For a man who seemed like he had been losing previously and had identified himself as a man who was slower then Captain America, Sam Wilson could hold his own. Even without his extraordinary Falcon wingpack, the pararescueman was useful, innovative and deadly. He held his own against a dirty fighter like Rumlow. They threw each other against walls, through the glass computers, onto tables. Knives were slashed and stolen and used against their owners. At one point Rumlow began contemplating using a firearm but Sam kicked it clean across the room, rendering the fight less lethal but still deadly. The fight seemed to go on forever each punch made by both opponents making her cringe with pain or cry out in suffering, before her earpiece crackled and Maria spoke. As she was about to speak, outside, a huge rattling akin to the thunder of Thor or the crack of an earthquake sounded. The floor rumbled beneath them and the building shook, as if the earth itself had cracked and split open to swallow the Triskelion and all of its illegal activities straight to Hell.

"All three Hellicarriers destroyed. As far as we know, Steve and the Win- Barnes were still on that ship."

Mallory's eyes fringed tears and an ache shot through her chest. _They're both super soldiers. They have a better chance then anybody. _Unless Barnes had killed Rogers, breaking his promise to Mallory that he wouldn't hurt anybody. She couldn't even respond to Maria as her hands were bound; she just had to sit and wallow in sadness as her ex and the pararescueman fought and the Hellicarriers crashed to river along with the world's only two super soldier best friends.

Hill spoke. "Mallory? Mallory are you there?"

Rumlow picked Sam up and threw him through a table, shattering even more glass and making Sam groan with pain on the floor. Rumlow jumped on the opposing table and panted heavily, as Mallory strained and squirmed on the floor with her hands bound.

"You're out of your depth kid." He quipped, but as he did that both Mallory and Sam swung their heads to look at the looming shadow of a Hellicarrier in the background. Mallory's heart seemed to throw itself into her throat and thud dumbly in the background, the feeling of imminent death breaking her out into a cold sweat. She was helpless to move to free herself from the situation.

Or so it seemed. Rumlow followed Sam's train of sight as he moved and slid on his knees towards Mallory, tugging at the cuffs in a vain attempt to free them. As he did that, Rumlow dropped from the table and as he began his sprint to safety passed a magnetic strip across the tiled floor to Mallory. She pressed it against her cuffs and almost magically, they released her from her bonds. She barely had time to rub her wrists before Sam grabbed them and hauled her up, his war cry of "RUN!" shrouded in the deafening sounds of the Hellicarrier crashing into the building.

Mallory and Sam were ahead of Rumlow, and behind her she heard his gruff voice swearing with passion as the trio sprinted forwards. The pressure of Sam's hand clamped around her wrist was worse then the handcuffs but somehow the pain of it was a secondary feature to the certain death experience she was currently having. It was like a bad dream, running from destruction only she knew she wouldn't wake up. She could only grip Sam's hand back and run faster then she'd ever run before, attempting to keep ahead of the destruction behind her and in step with the fit man beside her.

Sam was speaking into the earphone. "Please tell me you got that chopper in the air!"

She didn't hear the reply or who it was, but Sam's voice edged up an octave with fear as they slid across the ground and jumped over some falling debris. "41st FLOOR, NORTHWEST CORNER."

A second later he screamed, "NOT AN OPTION!" with his hand tightening around Mallory's and their pace increasing. As they neared the edge of the building, Mallory began to pant heavily, her legs cramping. She felt her heart stop completely as they reached the edge and the world sharpening with pain and fear as their feet left the shaking solid ground for freefall. She never looked back to see where Rumlow was, or if he'd made it out.

They fell. It was like that moment where she'd jumped down with the crazy man on the bridge with the Soldier's crew. But worse; much worse. That moment of freefall was extended to forever, with glass shattering behind them both and the scream of Sam as they windmilled through the air. The force broke their hold on each other and Mallory found herself begging at him. But the words of _no take my hand don't let go please don't let go _never left her mouth. Instead they were replaced with a scream of terror as she realized how far away the chopper was and how the pilot pulled it on its side for the two people within. She couldn't see Steve as they crashed toward the ground.

As they fell through Mallory went first, and the pilot was a second too late on pulling the chopper back up. She fell straight through the entrance of the chopper and right back out the other side, plunging to certain death.

A/N: I know it's late but I've had a prom to prepare for, I've been ill as hell (still ill right now but feeling much better now) and I sorta lost a little mojo with this chapter

Anyway, the response has been crazy. Twenty thousand views! That is intense guys! I am read every comment and you all motivate me so much. Everybody seems to be on board for the sequel so that'll be happening. I don't know whether or not to wait for Age of Ultron but I do have a vague idea of the plot. But thank you for your patience and understanding!


	19. A Great Man Had Lived

Until a second later, Natasha's hand shot out and grabbed Mallory's. She dangled in the air, with only Natasha's strength keeping her from death. Sam pulled Natasha's waist and between the pair, they dragged Mallory up to solid ground where she fell back against the helicopters leather seats, her sweating anxiety beginning to wear off as she realized she was not going to die.

"41st floor!" Sam breathlessly yelled, as he steadied himself. "41st!"

Mallory realized Fury was in the front seat as he turned and said, "It's not like they put the floor numbers outside of the building."

As the chopper flew under the crashing Hellicarrier, Natasha watched it with concern plastered over her face. She pulled her mic to her mouth.

"Hill, where's Steve? You got a location on Rogers?" She sounded anxious and exchanged a look of worry with Mallory as she steadied her breathing. Mallory did not hear Maria's response but whatever it was seemed to make Natasha look as if she was about to be sick. She opened her mouth to speak again and Mallory heard the low buzz of Maria's voice. Natasha listened intently, her face paling and Mallory grew concerned, pushing her aching body up the leather seat to eavesdrop.

Then Natasha covered the mic with her hand. "Mallory... your second name is Smith, right? Same name as your dad?"

"Yeah." Her heart fluttered again. "Why? Is he here, have you found him?"

Natasha didn't answer and seemed to ignore further prodding from Mallory. Whatever it was flared up her anxiety again before she remembered that Rumlow had been behind them in the run to safety and he was more than likely dead. She scanned the building, unwelcome tears brimming her eyes.

She had loved him. At a point in her life, Rumlow had been the epicenter of everything. If somebody had asked her a week ago about what she loved, he would've been her second answer after her parents. She felt like she'd loved him more then she'd ever loved any past boyfriends. More than Jackson, her first ever boyfriend which was a love built on danger and passion. More than Liam, the man who had stole her soul and broke it then stamped on its pieces. More then the ones that came after Liam, Todd and their lackluster rebound relationship with trust issues and lies on both parties sides. With Rumlow it had been a deep connection that she found hard to explain even after it had ended. She could spend a weekend away on a hot date in secluded area doing adult activities with him just as easily as she could stand a family gathering with him by her side. That part of her world had imploded and it seemed, after Liam, after Rumlow, she'd never learn to love anybody again. Ever. But she still wanted to cry for his death, for the memories he had left behind and his family.

And so Mallory sat as Natasha and Fury yelled at each other over the location of Captain America, and allowed her tears to escape as her heart calmed and the sight of the falling Hellicarrier faded into the distant. They landed in an impromptu site just outside of the destroyed Triskelion building, as recovery teams and firefighters and ambulances and police officers swarmed the fallen building beginning the process. Her thoughts drifted back to Barnes, to Rogers and what had happened when they'd met. Had he used Zola's now proven theory to reconcile with his old friend and they'd gone off somewhere to talk? If that was true, then why was he not answering his cellphone or comm? The more likely theory was that they had gotten themselves trapped on the Hellicarrier as it went down and splashed into the river so they concentrated their search teams to the banks.

It was over. There was no klaxon, no siren, no nothing to announce the passing of the danger but there was a feeling in the air of a grim acceptance and accomplishment that signified the end of what felt like a living nightmare. Lives had been lost by the hundreds but saved by the millions. Like Steve had said, the price of freedom was high. And with this feeling of grim acceptance, Mallory fished her phone out of her pocket and called her Dad with intentions of... well she wasn't quite sure. It was forgiveness of a sort, as she knew he'd be tracked down and put on trial and jailed for his crime, but she most certainly still felt bitter. But she didn't want to hate him. The call ended with a monotone voice telling her that the caller could not be reached. He had switched his phone off after all. She sighed and put it back in her pocket.

Beside her, someone was dabbing at Sam's face with a cloth, wiping the blood away. He didn't flinch with pain each time the cloth touched his open cuts as he was staring to the floor, eyes wistful as if he was thinking hard.

"Worrying?" They met eyes. "About Steve?"

He laughed self-consciously, his face breaking into the first smile she'd seen in hours. "How can you tell?"

"I know the look. He'll be fine." She said, feeling as confident as she sounded. She folded her arms and suddenly felt every inch of the dirt that had built up over her body. She hadn't changed in her clothes in what... two? Three days? She could barely remember. This entire ordeal had seemed to last an eternity.

"You think?"

"He's a super soldier. He had the best chance of surviving out of anyone if he was still on that ship." She repeated her words to soften the look of worry. "He'll be _fine_."

Sam was cleaned up and given leave to go home but refused, lingering with Mallory on the fringes of the barriers to watch the search teams, who regularly went down to the building with an empty body bag and come up with a full one. The barriers were crowded with arriving families their faces full of worry. As deaths were announced, the families would continually clutch to each other with an impending sense of grief hanging over their heads. Mallory and Sam watched it together, silent but with a sense of camaraderie that only a situation like this could force.

"Is that Natasha?" Sam said, breaking the silence. Mallory followed where his eyes rested and yes, it was Natasha. Weaving her way through the search team crowds, the Widow looked haggard in her catsuit. But that didn't seem to bother her as she continued moving quickly through the crowds to reach an ambulance that was taking away a body. The pair watched as she had a brief conversation with the paramedic, then after a moment he helped her into the back of the ambulance.

"What is she doing?" Mallory mused aloud, Sam shrugging with confusion and folding his arms a second later. Natasha came out a second later and was on the phone with somebody, a brief conversation that finished with her looking as if she'd rather be anywhere but there. She then scanned the crowds and spotted the pair watching her and started coming over. Mallory and Sam stirred and pretended to look as if they had been doing something other then staring at her when she came over.

Natasha smiled at them after she'd ducked under the barrier and found them, but the smile was a shade too uneasy for Mallory's liking. She looked at Sam and Sam shrugged.

"Sam can I talk to Mallory? Alone?"

He nodded, and placed his hand Mallory's shoulder and squeezed it as a goodbye. Mallory watched him go then smiled at Natasha.

"Something wrong?" _There is most definitely something wrong. _Mallory didn't like this feeling at all.

"Look Mallory there's no easy way to say this but... do you remember on the chopper when I asked you what your second name was?"

"Uh... yeah?"

Natasha took a deep breath to steady herself. "Well Maria told me that the paramedics who had done their search in the lobby they um... well they found a man who had been shot in the heart. He died before they could identify him. They ran his prints through the HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D databases, and found a match with the former."

_Why should she care about some dying HYDRA agent? _For some reason it didn't click for her yet. "And?"

"The prints are registered to a Sampson Smith, Director of Operations on the INSIGHT project." _No. No no no no no no. _She looked towards the ambulance."I'm so sorry Mallory."

In a word, Natasha had shattered her heart. It felt like somebody had set her on fire and only part of her had blackened and turned to ash. Her first thought was of disbelief. _No this can't be true, this isn't true she's lying she has to be. _A wave of faint passed her and Mallory swayed on her feet, heart thudding, head pounding, world spinning, mouth becoming dry with nausea. Her lower lip wobbled with disbelief but she couldn't cry not yet not until it was confirmed. Not until she had seen the body with her own eyes. She couldn't believe it.

"Can I see him?" It was a croak and Mallory cleared her throat. "Where is he?"

"I don't think that's a good idea-"

But Mallory was gone. This was faster then she had ran, even from the impending doom of the crashing Hellicarrier into the Triskelion. She was under the barrier before the cops on guard could yell at her and attempting wrenching open the doors of the ambulance before the paramedic could leap forwards and haul her back.

"Ma'am you shouldn't go back there."

"Let me see him! I'm his daughter! I'm a doctor!" She struggled against his hold and spat with venom. "I'm more qualified than you to do this!"

"Mal!" She heard Natasha's voice.

"Mallory." Sam's.

"That may be so ma'am but you still shouldn't go back there."

Natasha and Sam and the faceless paramedics voices faded into nothing as she freed a hand and yanked the door open. It swung backwards, taking both Mallory and the paramedic by surprise. They fell backwards, onto their behinds onto the ruined floor of the Triskelion's parking lot. Mallory's mouth had gone by and Natasha had ran up behind her, her low voice fading into nothing as Mallory stepped up the metal staircase to the body bag.

Her hands were shaking as she pulled on the zip, insistent like a child tugging on it's mothers skirt. _Mom. _This would destroy her. She wasn't sure her mother could recover from a blow like this. As she slid the zip across the contours of the body bag, the only thought running through her mind was a prayer to a God. _Please don't be dead, please don't be dead Daddy._

As she pushed the black plastic of the body bag aside, the pale and corpse-like face of her father stared back, his eyes still open with the horror of being shot evident in his dead face. There was a bruise on his face where Mallory had punched him. His body blurred. The world shook around her. She rocked. Her lower lip wobbled and the first of what would be many tears fell down her face. She cupped her mouth as a wail of horror escaped her lips and could only think of her mother as she backed away from the nightmarish vision of her father in a body bag.

Someone caught her as she walked too far and fell down the steps. Sam's arms enveloped her and she sobbed into the arms of the man she had met hours ago, her cries of mercy from God incoherent amongst her howling with pain. She clutched Sam and waited for the initial tornado of emotion to pass, as it tore up her soul and ripped away part of her heart to rest with her father for all eternity. She had never felt such pain in her entire life.

Natasha's hand fiddled with the dial on the radio, turning Adam Levine's wailing voice as he sang about stereos to a faded background noise.

"Damn antique." She said quietly, to herself mostly as Mallory's eyes were staring out of the window, lost in a memory of a happier time with her father. It felt like somebody had backhanded her with all of their force, her cheeks burning and her eyes stinging with tears. The green trees that lined the perfect suburban roads and the manicured hedges that lead up to the doorways of her vast childhood home blurred onto a canvas of colour; Mallory wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and Natasha looked over to her.

"You okay?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Do you want me to come inside with you?"

The car had come to a stop on the sidewalk, but the engine was still running, the low thrum vibrating the shell of the car. The car wasn't Natasha's sleek black one but a loaned Jaguar from an onsite S.H.I.E.L.D agent who had taken one look at Mallory's red eyes and Natasha's protective arm around her and surrendered the keys immediately to her. Sam and Natasha had fought amongst themselves to see who would drive Mallory back to her mothers house to break the news as gently and kindly as possible. They both were divided, both of them wanting to stay onsite and join the search team for Steve and Barnes – or James, she had to call him James now – but they both wanted to make sure Mallory got home safe. Natasha had insisted in a low voice that a job like this had needed a woman's touch.

Natasha's hand stopped her. "You sure you don't want me with you? This isn't the first time I've done something like this."

Mallory made sure she turned her head and attempted a watery smile of gratitude to the Widow. "Thanks but I'd rather keep this in the family."

"Will she take it hard?" Seeing Mallory's questionable look, she elaborated. "You know some people clamp up, others go a little crazy."

Mallory cringed, remembering her own reaction. "I don't know. There's been deaths in the family before but she was always the strong one and a death this close to her has never really happened before. So I guess we'll see."

"Are you okay? I know that's a stupid question but... are you okay?" Mallory knew she was remembering Mallory's reaction as well. Mallory shrugged.

"I'm fine." She swallowed nervously at her own lie then decided to come clean. "Well of course I'm not fine. My dad just-" She trailed off. "But I'm over the shock. I need to be with family."

Natasha nodded knowingly. "Okay."

Her voice was soft. Mallory got out of the car but remembered something and turned back to speak through the open window. "Call me if Steve or Barnes gets found."

She nodded again then started to pull out from the sidewalk. "I'll see you around."

Mallory watched her go and offered a weak wave as the Widow drove past her on the sidewalk. It reminded her stupidly of the day in D.C when she'd first met the Widow and how everything had changed. She had lost two people she had loved strongly, if in different ways. These two people had a lot in common; they'd both duped her into doing something legally and morally damaging and they both had been men she had believed she could trust. It was weird. At the start of the day she had been certain about the outcome; the good guys would trump the bad guys and everybody got to go home to relax. But even as that happened variables had thrown her future into uncertainty. No Dad meant no emotionally stable Mom and a devastated family. No Rumlow meant no complete closure over that situation and devastation for his family, wherever they may be. With no S.H.I.E.L.D meant no HYDRA which meant no job. No Soldier meant no chance for him to regain his memories with people who had intimate knowledge of his condition. And at the moment, no Captain American made her feel extremely unsafe.

The world had gotten scarier, and she felt like she was drowning under everything that had been put to her. A chill was sent down her spine and she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling like a child again as the need for her mother fired her brain into action. She walked the short distance to her house and pushed the door open. Her mother never left the door unlocked.

The hallway was much the same as she had left it. The coat rack still had one of her father's hiking jackets and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying. She walked into the living room, and saw the TV was one but muted.

"Mom."

The word put her into action again. Her head snapped up and her eyes came alive with pain and anger and a fiery motherly instinct. She got up and wordlessly crossed the room. The pair embraced, Mallory finding sanctuary in her mother's arms as she had so many times before. The lump she hadn't realized was strangling her and she let out a small whimper, as her mother's frame hardened as her grip tightened around Mallory. Mallory opened her mouth to say something intelligent but all that came out was another small cry and that did it for her mother. Her cries were muffled by Mallory's shoulder which grew wetter by the second and soaked through her dirty tank top. Mallory held her, feeling a calmness spread over her.

Mallory pulled her mother into another embrace which caused them to sit back on to the sofa. Her mother had her head on her shoulder, and her hand was clamped tightly around Mallory's. Mallory couldn't allow herself to crumple like she had when they found the body, wanting to remain strong for her mother but it was hard, as an orgy of images of her father's cold corpse and all of the hate she had directed towards him before hand flashed through her head. They remained there as the sun began to slide down the sky and her mother's howls of anguish were replaced with sniffles and hiccups.

"Could you get me some water, sweetheart?" Her mother's voice broke the silence. Mallory nodded and felt her bones crack as she stood and walked to the sink in the kitchen. When she came back with two glasses for her and her mother, she was watching the news. It had been on the entire time they had sat there, but only now did it seem relevant. The S.H.I.E.L.D and HYDRA report had been playing all day.

"Thank you." Her mother took a sip and set it down on the table.

"Who told you?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. They just called. Told me how he... died. They don't know who did it yet but apparently a lot of agents were killed in the midst of things and the CCTV footage was burned by the wreckage." Her mother looked at her accusingly. "You were there weren't you?"

Mallory nodded.

"He said you knocked him out."

"I did."

"Why?"

"He was keeping me upstairs Mom. Preventing me from doing the right thing."

"Don't. Don't talk like that about your father." Her voice cracked horribly.

Mallory narrowed her eyes at her mother. "Did S.H.I.E.L.D say anything else?"

Her mother shifted uncomfortably but didn't say anything. Mallory put her hand on her knee.

"Mom?"

"We better start calling his family. His dad is dead but I know his mother is still alive. And all of his brothers and sisters..."

"Mom!"

Her mother looked at her as if she was seeing her for the first time and shrank into her seat. She seemed to consider it for a moment, hesitating as if she didn't quite want to say it. Then she did.

"They said he was HYDRA." She whispered finally, as the female newscaster repeated the breaking news headlines in case anybody had just tuned in. "It's not true. Tell me it's not true. I can't believe it."

"You have to believe." Mallory put the glass on the table. "Look I haven't been completely honest with you over these past few weeks-"

Her phone buzzed. Mallory had it out of her pocket in seconds. The text was from Natasha, and all it said was:

_Steve has been found. No sign of Barnes though. We'll keep an eye out for him_

A couple of seconds later it was breaking news on the TV. Her mother sat up and listened as they read the report then focused back on Mallory.

"Sweetie can I... can I call his family first? They need to know and I'd rather they hear it from me then some redundant S.H.I.E.L.D agents. I want to hear what you have to say but... can we wait?"

Maybe waiting was for the best. It would give her a chance to collect her thoughts and figure out what she was going to say.

"Yeah course. I'm going to go home and get some clothes and some other stuff. I'll help you with the calls when I get back." She didn't want to leave her mother alone but it had to be done. Mallory had been wearing those clothes for days, ever since the business on the highway. They were probably covered with sweat and grime and dirt and blood but the darkness of the fabric gave nobody any visual evidence of how long she had been wearing. Yet she merely needed to sniff gingerly at it to determine how long she had been wearing it. She needed new clothes and her mom didn't stock anything of her size in the house.

"Thank you sweetie. Here," She reached onto the table where her bag was and pulled out a wad of dollars. "Take a cab."

"Mom-"

"Take the money sweetie. Be quick." Her mother turned for the address book to start finding the first of the names who needed to be informed of his death.

Mallory went into the hallway to call the cab. He came in minutes and Mallory called a throaty goodbye to her mother as she shut the door and walked down the stairs. It occurred to her she hadn't eaten in hours but somehow she felt weighted with the heaviness of grief.

Death had not been a common occurrence in her family yet it had happened. Her grandfather had died when she was young and she vaguely remembered the funeral as a quiet affair. It was the first time she'd seen her father cry properly, her mother with her arms around him before they'd left for the church with a young Mallory at their heels. She knew from conversations when she was older that he'd never been very close to his father, or his entire family at that matter but still his death had touched him and hollowed his heart. Her father's death had hollowed Mallory's own heart, the pain was still raw and she knew she couldn't think of him longer then a few seconds without wanting to burst into tears.

The cab ride felt seconds long. The driver was quiet, humming along to a song on the radio as the darkening skyline of D.C signaled the day was at a close. Mallory found herself thinking of James, the Soldier. Where was he? Had he survived the crash like Steve had? Then ran before the rescuers could get him to safety. If he had she didn't blame his running. She hoped Steve had cracked his memories. A plethora of emotions he could've been feeling passed through her and she was swept with empathy. She hoped he was safe wherever he was and she knew he would come back in his own time.

Mallory paid the cab driver then tipped, using her key to unlock the front door and walking the flight of stairs to her apartment. She had walked it many times but this time it was long and slow. She reached her door and straightened the number which had been knocked aside. She took a moment to collect herself, knowing there would be evidence of Rumlow and her father _everywhere _but she had to face her fear. She unlocked the door and entered the darkened apartment. Flicking the switch she got a few paces through the apartment before she noticed the man dressed in black sitting on her bed. The scream that was on her lips was aborted as logic kicked in and she realized who it was.

_Unbelievable. _She took a step forwards and staggered a little. "James?"

Her voice was full of wonder. He was dressed in his damp Winter Soldier armour, sans mask and murderous expression. His hair was darker then normal and as he stood shakily she saw he had left a wet patch on her bed. He was shivering, and holding his non-cybernetic arm close to his chest like it had been hurt. His expression, although agonizing was human and as he approached her, her lower lip wobbled with fear and joy.

It had worked. Steve somehow had said or done something that had broken down the barrier of the mental torture. The Winter Soldier was no longer a robot – he was human, a moving working person with memories and feelings and a future now. Relief coursed through her veins and she wanted more than anything to throw her arms around him and maybe kiss him with gratitude for coming back to her, safe and sound. It sank deep in the pit of her stomach, a nice feeling, a happy feeling. Was it hope? She wasn't sure. He was beautiful, pitiful creature and he seemed so tall as he stood above her and closed the gap of space between them with a few long strides of his long legs.

"I'm sorry." His voice was a shade tremulous. "I had nowhere else to go."

Mallory opened her mouth to say something - a weak word of assurance, informing him of the demise of her father or perhaps an apology for all she done, she wasn't sure which – but she shut it again. What could she say? What on earth could she say that would make this guilty conscience that weighed her down lessen a little? Her father had always said actions spoke louder than words and this seemed the case. Here the Soldier stood before her, a person she had spent the hardest six months of her life battling what felt like the entire world with, who had saved her life so many times telling her that he was sorry for intruding. She owed him the world. She owed him her thanks at least.

Her arms slid around his wet waist and her body pressed against his and her head rested on his chest and she just stood there. And a second later she felt a wince of pain as he carefully lowered his arms and tightened them just the slightest around her. Not by much but somehow it was enough.

Mallory felt again that she was being held together by the Soldier just as everything was beginning to fall apart.

A/N: We have reached the end of the movie but we still have more chapters to go! Apologies for the emotional stress this chapter might have caused!


	20. Honesty

A/N: And we have reached the end of Mallory's story! Don't worry, I have some follow ups planned so pleased stay tuned but this is the end of The Doctor and the Soldier. It's been so fun to write and watch the views go up and read reviews, and follow and favourite counts. You guys have been so supportive and I am so grateful for you all. Here's where the editing starts! Much love to you all!

The cab ride back home felt shorter. James sat beside her in the backseat, with a bag containing both a mix of Mallory's and Rumlow's clothes – for James, once he had showered and something for Mallory to wear to bed – and a few other essentials she'd need for the prolonged stay at her mother's. The cab driver's eyebrows had raised his eyebrows at the sight of two individuals, one dressed in armour with a metal arm, the other all in black fatigues, both clearly emotionally distressed and tired but hadn't said anything at all as they rolled through the now dark D.C roads back to the suburban lands of her childhood home. The radio was off and the only sound was the occasional soft sigh from Mallory, the thrum of the engine and the sound of James's boots making contact with the carpet underfoot as he rhythmically bounced his legs.

He'd been quiet since their scene in the apartment. After Mallory had dried her eyes, put his arm back in his socket and gathered her things, she'd announced her intention to take him home with her. He'd paled and protested weakly to it, claiming he'd be fine on his own if Mallory would just let him use his shower and maybe change into some more normal clothes to blend into civilization. His thoughts were that he would go into woods and live off the land.

"No." She'd said firmly, as she'd rechecked her bag. "You're coming with me. You need stability and I'm going to try to give you that as much as I gone. God knows it's the least I can do."

She still couldn't figure out what she was going to say to her mother. Of course James's presence would make it a little easier for her, but the story still muddled her. Would she tell her mother absolutely everything? The six months of not knowing anything and being completely blind to the most obvious thing in the world? Would she mention how she'd knocked out her own father to go against what he'd told her not to do and taken down a HYDRA agent and been locked in a Russian prison where she'd been forced to watch a woman die and her daughter lose a leg? Or how she'd almost been shot by the man sitting next to her on a freeway? How she had once again fallen in love with a dark haired blue eyed pretty boy who had seemed so perfect but turned out to be so fake? _Everything. She has to know everything._ Mallory might even tell her about how she had slept in a bed with another man and felt strange, strange things nobody in a relationship should ever feel with someone else. She turned her head to James but he stared forwards and Mallory remembered how when she'd seen him how relieved she had felt and she had wanted to kiss him immediately.

Not romantically, she reasoned. Just friendly. Now wasn't the time to see what kind of stance her head was in. She had to prioritize. First came dealing with the fallout of her father's death – that could take months, years even. Something like this, she had heard, never really stopped hurting. It clawed at you from within and could be suppressed for years till a word or a song or a picture or a date brought it all back. Ironically, it was not unlike the exact therapy that the man beside her had gone through. She made a mental note to ask him exactly what had happened between him and Steve. Then came dealing with Rumlow's death. Still painful, but somewhat easier. After she was as stable as she could be, then she'd deal with whatever this was she felt towards James. She pushed it to the back of her mind and sighed as the car pulled to a stop outside her mother's house.

Mallory handed a twenty. "Keep the change."

The drivers eyes lit up and he thanked her wholeheartedly. James quietly insisted on carrying the bags and Mallory let him, leading him up the stone path bathed in the soft glow of the porch light to her front door. The sun had set completely and Mallory's mother had remembered to switch all the lights on and close all of the curtains. From the outside the house looked homely but inside Mallory could feel the forbearing sense of cold as she entered the living room to see her mother on the phone and sobbing to someone. Her mother looked up and smiled at her weakly to acknowledge she'd seen her, and her eyes widened a little at James beside her but she didn't stop the call to ask who he was or what he was doing here. Mallory lead him upstairs.

Upstairs was her mother and fathers bedroom with their ensuite, her old room, the guest room and the large bathroom with the added luxury of a bathtub underneath the shower. She showed him each room in turn, about to go into the ins and outs of how the shower worked when she remembered there had been one in the Bunker. She settled him in the guest bedroom, a decent sized room with a double bed, an open closet with hangers waiting to be filled and a flat screen mounted on the wall with a neat stack of crappy action DVDs.

As she showed him around she found herself strangely thinking about her own shower at home which leaked lava-like water then suddenly sprayed the user with what felt like ice shards before gradually going to a normal temperature. She remembered many times in the mornings brushing her teeth and making faces in the mirror as Rumlow showered and chuckling at his yelp of surprise as the cold sprayed him followed with his self-conscious laughter. Every time it would surprise him. She grew sad thinking about him and was glad for James's interruption.

"Will your mother mind me being here?" He asked, looking entirely out of place on the freshly laundered sheets and gingham covers in his armour.

"No. I'm planning on telling her about what Dad does- did and HYDRA. And by extension that means you so she'll be glad to have you here." _I hope_, she added as she rummaged through the bag to separate Rumlow's clothes from her own.

"What about the injunction?"

Mallory had forgotten all about that stupid injunction. Even if the injunction still proved to be legally silencing for her, she doubted her mother would turn her over to the cops for telling her. "I doubt that means anything now. Even if it does, Mom won't say anything."

He stayed silent and Mallory carefully folded all of what remained of Rumlow's clothes into a pile on the bed. "Here. I hope it doesn't freak you out wearing his clothes. I don't think Mom would've comfortable with you wearing Dad's clothes and besides, his stuff would hang off you. We'll get you some clothes soon."

He was lost in thought, staring ahead as if the floor had eyes and was looking back. He stirred a moment too late and looked at her hesitantly. It was obvious he wasn't ready to talk about it right now. "No. Of course it won't. Thanks."

"You remember where the bathroom is? Towels are in the white cupboard beside the sink."

He nodded and struggled out of the top of his armour. Mallory made a move to help him but he promptly stepped back and after a grunt, he'd unzipped the fiddly zips and had the jacket off. He stood in his fatigues, shoes and black tank top and inclined his head gratefully towards her before disappearing through the hallway and shutting the bathroom door. Mallory looked back through the bag to find some old clothes and noticed she'd forgotten to add one of Rumlow's shirts to the pile. It was an old thing, a faded royal blue with a hole near the neck and some black lettering which spelled out the gym Rumlow used to attend. She went to add them to James's pile but hesitated, her fingers running over the soft fabric. She lifted it and pressed her nose to it. It still smelt like him, wood and musk and soap. With a jolt she remembered the last time she'd seen it on him; it had been in January and he'd wanted to warm himself up by going to the gym. He'd worn it for five minutes, making Mallory laugh as he distracted her from making her breakfast with jokes and kisses. Then he'd changed, leaving the shirt in a pile on the bed to wear his usual gym gear. And Mallory had put in the back of her wardrobe and it had sat amongst discarded dresses and too small shorts, untouched till now.

Without thinking she had it under her arm as she went into her parents ensuite bathroom. She undressed out of her grimy black top and the fatigues she'd been wearing for what felt like forever, showered and brushed her teeth with her toothbrush she'd brought from her apartment. When she put her pajamas on, she swapped her usual checkered tank top with the shirt. She'd spent their entire relationship wearing his shirts to bed and even though it was over, the familiarity felt as if it had grounded her to make what she was going to tell her mother. She knocked lightly on the guest room's door.

"James? Can I come in?"

"Yes." His voice was soft. She entered the room and smiled. He was sitting on the bed and rubbing his soaking hair with a towel, dressed in black sweatpants and a green t-shirt. She sat beside him, their legs touching lightly.

"Do you want me there when you tell her?"

"Please. I don't think I could do by myself."

He nodded and put the towel beside him and they sat in silence for a few moments. She exchanged a look with him and they both rose from the bed at the same time. Mallory lead the way as they went downstairs and when she went into the living room her mother had finally hung the phone up and was sitting on the sofa with red eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache. Mallory's own stomach was turning, roiling as if she was going to be sick even though she hadn't eaten anything all day.

"Mom?" Her voice was small like she was a child again. In her oversized t-shirt and loose shorts, she did feel like a child.

She looked up and smiled, then her eyes fell on James. "Who's he?"

"His name is James. He... um... he worked with me. And Dad."

Her mother went pale and sat forwards, eyeing James with a sudden wonder. "You knew Sampson?"

He nodded stiffly, shifting uncomfortably. Mallory felt uncomfortable too, as to her Sampson Smith was her father but to James, Smith was one of Pierce's lackeys who had overseen his years of oppression. She doubted his opinion of her father was a good one. Mallory herself wasn't sure about her own opinion of her father.

"Mom those agents told you that Dad was HYDRA." Her mother flinched but sat forwards, listening intently. "Well... I was HYDRA as well. And so was my boyfriend. And James."

Her mother looked between them all, her jaw open wide, shock plastering her features giving her red eyes a scary effect. "You were... HYDRA? Nazis? All of you?"

Mallory raised her arms in surrender. "Mom just- just let me finish. Okay? You can ask questions but it'll easier if I get it all out at once."

Her mother lent back in her chair and regarded Mallory stiffly, before nodding once and pressing her lips together. Mallory looked at James, drawing courage from his impassive face and faraway eyes, and began the tale of the last six months.

She told her mother everything. Everything she could remember came spilling out of her mouth in a coherent and chronological order. And as she talked, she could remember all details. She explained how she'd been hired for the organization in which Pierce and her father had both told her she was working for a sub division of S.H.I.E.L.D called HYDRA. When Mallory's mother put the question to her to why she hadn't known what HYDRA was, Mallory had told her that during all of her Dad's tales of Captain America's exploits he'd merely referred to the organization as 'a secret science division of Nazis'. Inside, Mallory had mused that if her father had simply mentioned what it was called, none of this would've ever happened. She explained to her mother about her role in HYDRA. She detailed the exploits with Reznak and Oswick, how they had first aroused her suspicions and how so suddenly after Rumlow had shown that well-timed interest in her. She told her how for their second date he had brought her a plastic lily which she'd kept in her apartment. She told of how Pierce had asked her to go into the field.

Her mother stopped her when Mallory mentioned the date. "Wait... was that... when you said you were in Mexico?"

Mallory nodded and as she continued to explain the situation with Ariadne and Sofia and Elliot her voice cracked. Mallory was transported right back into that moment as the blood had trickled past her wrist and gloves, how she'd watched the final moments between daughter and mother, how she'd held onto that hope that the Soldier wouldn't take any the only parent Sofia and the boy had left and that awful, horrible moment he'd fired the gun. She took a breath to control herself, and told her mother everything. Her mother clamped a hand to her mouth, and whimpered with pain at how much her daughter had endured.

She carried on her tale, her impromptu meeting with Natasha Romanoff, finding the file which had aroused her suspicions, how suddenly Pierce wanted Nick Fury dead activated the Bunker's destructive security protocols and finally, how she'd found out that Rumlow had been tasked by both Pierce and her father with the mission of seducing Mallory and swinging her to the HYDRA way of thinking by the bug in the lily he'd given her.

"I met Dad in a cafe to talk about it. He said that he believed Rumlow had fallen for me properly and that he had every intention of telling me of how we had met. Dad said that he was weighed down with guilt over how we'd met." Mallory rolled her eyes.

"That _bastard_." Mallory's mother whispered and Mallory wasn't sure if she was referring to her father or Rumlow. "I'll wring that pretty boy's neck next time I see him."

_Oh. _Mallory blinked. "You can't. He's dead."

Mallory's mother went white and she opened her mouth to say something before shutting it again. She motioned for Mallory to continue.

She told her of the situation on the bridge and how she knew Steve had recognized the Soldier, how later Pierce had finally revealed what HYDRA's true intentions were with Project INSIGHT. She told her mother how she'd witnessed the Soldier going through a mind wipe and how it was one of the most painful things she'd ever had to watch. She told her of how Rumlow had comforted her and how she'd hit him and told him he was a monster.

And then she told her mother of the triumph that the Soldier had remembered her.

"How?"

"The tech doesn't actually wipe the memories away completely; it just suppresses them. The guy who had developed the tech had this theory called memory fragmentation, that with the application of something that the subject had a strong emotional attachment with the subject."

"So what brought him back?" Her mother had not yet quite realized that James was the Soldier; she didn't blame her. Mallory hadn't realized it till it was too late either.

"I called Rumlow a monster. And it was the same words I'd told the Soldier in the prison." She felt James shift uncomfortably beside her. "Apparently it affected him more then I'd realized. It brought part of him back, enough for me to stall so I could figure out a plan to get to Steve Rogers."

"Dad brought me home from the bank and it was there I got a call from Natasha. Once I'd convinced her that I was innocent, she arranged a plan to get me to safety with Rogers. Me and Dad had a talk when we were upstairs and he slipped up, said something about the Soldier's identity. So I asked him who he was and after a while, Dad cracked. He told me his name. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

Her mother looked blank. Then she realized that Mallory was referring to Rogers's childhood best friend. And when James beside her shifted and looked to Mallory then back to her mother, her mother looked like she was about to faint.

"You?" Was all her mother could whisper. James nodded once and looked expectantly to Mallory. "How are... I don't understand."

"In the 40's, he was taken by HYDRA and experimented on him. They gave him a mild form of the serum used on Steve which boosted his immune system so when he fell from the train he survived. Zola's forces found him and fashioned him into a weapon to start controlling the world." Mallory turned her head to him. "That's why you dreamt about falling out of that train in the snow all those times. Do you remember?"

He nodded. Mallory turned back to her mother.

"The launch was about to happen so we worked out a plan. One of Steve's friends and Steve would run ground interference and attempt to get these electronic chips which would override HYDRA's control of the Hellicarriers. I was to distract Rumlow and Natasha and Fury would dump all of HYDRA's secrets on the internet." Mallory swallowed. "We managed to get the ships offline but as we were escaping-" She used that term lightly. _Running for her life to get to a helicopter by jumping off a building, _was the more accurate term. "- but Rumlow couldn't catch up to us in time and he..."

She trailed off. She didn't have to say it.

"I'm sorry honey." Her mother reached over and took her hands. Mallory looked at her mother's face searchingly, her own features etched with the hollowed look of grief and Mallory's mother squeezed her hand. "Sweetie, you don't need validation for your grief over him."

Her words were a whisper. "I can't help it. I want to hate him but..."

Her mother nodded. "It's hard. I know. I'd love to tell you it'll get easier but... I can't."

Both women were on the verge of tears. Mallory swallowed to force the lump down her throat and steadied herself, as her knees were shaking on the couch. She cleared her throat and continued.

"We get to the ground and Natasha tells me that they received confirmation that a body in the lobby belonged to Dad. And then I came home and..."

She didn't really need to delve into the details of how the Soldier had gone missing for a couple of hours. It was a panic she didn't want to relive. By the time her tale had ended, the clock read 1:42am. Mallory suddenly felt exhausted and her mother smiled lovingly at her, her hand under her chin.

"Why don't you kids go to bed? It's late and you've both been through... well, a lot lately. You'll be tired." It was more of a request than a statement.

Mallory stood, James copying her movements, then she paused. "Aren't you going to bed too?"

Her mother shook her head nervously, as if she was about to lie. "I have some phone calls to make. His sister didn't answer her phone."

Mallory wanted to stay with her mother, as she was sure she was lying in an attempt to not face the big empty bed that was the shared room with her father but she was exhausted and she knew her mother wouldn't appreciate her stealing in on her private moments. Mallory embraced her mother, fighting back tears and lead James back upstairs to his room.

He sat on the bed and ran a hand through his hair, silent as ever his eyes deep in thought. Mallory stood above him and felt awkward, unsure of what to say in this uncomfortable silence. She swallowed and attempted small talk.

"Bed okay?" He looked at her as if she had started speaking another language. "I mean is it comfortable- too springy, not enough blankets? Pillows? There's some in the cupboard if you want me to get them-"

He shook his head. "It's fine."

"Okay."

Another moment of silence. James was resting his elbows on his knees, staring ahead, once again following a train of thought in his memory. Mallory watched him, her concern over her patient fighting over the urge to make awkward and useless small talk.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He hesitated but nodded all the same. She took the space opposite him, sitting close and her knee brushed against his. He jerked as if she'd slapped him, then relaxed when he'd moved from. Her face clouded with confusion; she'd touched him before and he'd been fine but she didn't say anything, not wanting to frighten him or make him even more nervous then he seemed.

"What happened on the bridge? Between you and Steve?"

Instead of shifting nervously, he became very still. Corpse like, she decided as the only movement was blinking and his shoulder's rising and falling with the movements of his breathing. He clearly didn't want to talk about it, and Mallory felt stupid for asking. Doctors were supposed to have some sort of bedside manner but it seemed all of Mallory's training had gone out of the window with her insensitive manner towards him. She kept touching him when he didn't want to be, she kept probing in matters that she should've waited for him to speak to her about. Feeling terrible, she went to get up to stalk off to her childhood bedroom to cry over everything that had happened today when to her utter astonishment he started talking.

"They wiped me again." She must've looked confused even though inside she was swelling with anger at the now-dead Pierce because he elaborated. "When you left. I asked where you'd gone and they ordered me wiped."

Visions of his torturing wiping session came into her mind and how she done absolutely nothing to stop it apart from cry in Rumlow's arms. It was just another thing to be guilty about.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from that again. You understand why I left, right?" It was assurance she needed and assurance he gave her with his tight nod. "You didn't answer my question."

"I know." He took a deep breath in, seemingly sucking all the air he could into his lungs and sighing it out then fixing his eyes on the floor when he opened his mouth to speak again. "He didn't want to fight me. But I did so we fought. Then I shot him. He took the, uh..."

He looked to her helplessly and Mallory nodded. "Hellicarrier."

"Hellicarrier." he repeated it wondrously as if he'd never heard of it before. "He took the Hellicarrier offline with this chip but I'd shot him a few times so he couldn't escape. It exploded or something and I was trying to kill him when he said 'I'm with you till the end of the line."

Was that Rogers and his version of memory fragmentation? What had that phrase meant to them both? It had brought him back but to what extent?

"It reminded me of a funeral I'd once been to and how I had that to reassure someone. Someone who had meant a lot to me." He swallowed tightly and shrugged. "Steve."

"How much do you remember?"

"Bits and pieces. Flashes like photographs." His voice lowered. "Before and after my fall."

That meant he could remember some of his life as the Winter Soldier. All the things he had done, the people who he had killed. He could remember the eccentric oil baron Oswick and how he'd rammed his car off the road, the business of Elliott Kohl and that damned Russian prison, and the supposed death of Nick Fury. She wondered how he felt about that. _What a stupid thing to say. _He probably felt terrible. But he had to understand that it wasn't his fault. Pierce, Zola and all those bastards had used him to achieve their aims and although in a way it had been his fault, he had not been fully in control of his actions and could not be blamed. It occurred to Mallory for the first time in hours that she was technically harboring a missing person and an enemy of the state. She had not checked in with either Natasha, Sam or even Hill, to say she was aware of Steve's condition or that her mother had taken the news a little better than she'd expected or that here James sat beside her getting quizzed over his business on the Hellicarrier. All three would want to question him about his position at HYDRA. And Steve. Once Steve got better he'd want to see his best friend, he would want to catch up on all that lost time when both parties had been convinced the other was dead. She remembered with a pang of painful nostalgia that her father had told her Steve had watched James tumble to his death and had tried so desperately to save his life.

James was not the same man Steve had knew. Yes, he was slightly warmer than the Soldier had been but Steve would optimistically expect his old friend to be back to normal by the time he got better. But Mallory knew it didn't work that way. The theory was called memory fragmentation for a reason; fragments of memory came back, one at a time, in bulk or sometimes none at all. He could remember some of both, and this man that sat before her was a bewildered mess of both men and she wasn't sure how Steve would react to that. Or James for that matter.

She decided to ask him. "Do you wanna see Steve? I can ask Nat which hospital he's in and take you there. Or if you'd rather, we can wait until he's woken up."

"I... I'd like to." His tone took on one of confession, as if he was ashamed for wanting to see his childhood friend. "But not right now. I don't wanna disappoint him, you know? I wanna _be_ Bucky when he sees me not just remember him. Does that make sense? Do you... do you get it?"

It broke her heart and brought a tear to her eyes. She nodded wordlessly, unable to think over her thoughts running wild. _He wants to be Bucky when he sees him. _She didn't have a heart to tell him that it could be a while before that happened. Mallory went to place her hand over his but remembered his discomfort when she'd last touched him, so she rose with an affectionate smile instead.

"I better leave you, I'm exhausted and I know you are. If it gets too hot, the key to the window is in the drawer and if it's too cold, the cupboard with blankets is downstairs. Night."

"Mallory?"

She turned, her hand resting on the door. "Yeah?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I never... uhm... I never said sorry. About your dad. Or Rumlow."

Her chest tightened at the mention of the two liars who she loved. Her eyes glistened with tears as she surveyed him in the bright lights of the room. "Thanks."

"Night."

She switched the light off and shut the door, making her way steadily across the hallway to her childhood bedroom. She didn't want to look at her walls and the posters of the teenage heart throbs or the bands she had loved, nor the collection of trophies or teddy bears that lined her shelves. These trips down memory held no interest to her especially the big blue box she knew was tucked away inside her wardrobe that held all of the photographs of her with Liam, her with Danni, some very old photographs of her with Jackson. Instead she switched the light off and waited for her eyes to adjust in the darkness, her thin curtains allowing moonlight to bathe the room with a natural light that was easy to sleep in. She slid down the checkered pajama pants and folded them on the floor. When she rolled into bed she rearranged the four pillows; two behind her bed and the other two on either side of her. She didn't even want to admit it to herself but the pressure and weight that covered her body was supposed to, when she shut her eyes and breathed in Rumlow's scent on his shirt, send her back to a time when she was in love and her dad was alive and everything was simple, easy.

She thought of her dad walking her down the aisle, children with a mixed Italian-English ancestry, blue eyes framed with wrinkles and a loving smile on the porch of a home on the outskirts of D.C. It was like a punch in the gut. Her eyes watered with the knowledge that the future that had seemed so within her reach that she had been ready to wait for was all a lie and impossible. People had always told her, ironically enough it had been her father, that honesty was the best policy but as Mallory lay in her childhood bed pretending her lying Nazi boyfriend who she still was deeply in love with wasn't dead nor a Nazi or that her lying Nazi father whom she also still deeply loved was also not dead or a Nazi, the weight of how honest she had been today pinned her into the bed and as the first waves of grief crashed over and over and over her, relentless, pounding, unforgiving she couldn't agree. Honesty just hurt. There was a hole in her heart that no matter how much closure she was given would never be filled. Grief had hollowed and hardened her, whilst rubbing her emotions raw. She couldn't breathe, pressure engulfing her. She had lived so much in the past six months compared to the rest of her life.

And as Mallory Smith lay choking and gasping for pain as her memory taunted her of the men she had lost, she knew this was only the beginning.


	21. Epilogue - Rebirth

It had been five days since the downing of the Triskelion and James Buchanan Barnes's eyes flitted with interest over his own face staring back at him. A blue eyed, full lipped and handsome young man, his hair was cropped short and his skin shaved smooth. Only it wasn't his reflection. The picture he was looking had been taken somewhere between sixty and seventy years ago, with himself being caught unawares by the camera as he was scowling. He always smiled into a cameras lens. He remembered that from his past.

His reflection lay a little to the right of the picture. Although the same handsome face, it was hollow and built on pure muscle, his face covered in a scruffy beard and long hair pulled back in one of Mallory's dad's baseball caps making him almost unrecognizable. Nobody in the Smithsonian had recognized him at all, their eyes searching for a hero with short hair and a smiling face instead of what he believed was a villainous man in every sense of the word with unwashed, uncut hair and a scowl.

As if she was tuned for his negative thoughts, the brown haired woman beside him caught his eye and her full lips spread into a smile of reassurance. He remembered Mallory Smith and those feelings were a mixed bag. It felt like most of his memories that had came back to him had her in the epicenter. He could remember her crying the time she had brought him back in that bank fault. Her anger in that prison. The look of horror she had given him when he'd shot Kohl. At the moment it felt as if his entire world had Mallory involved in some way. It annoyed him, sort of. He didn't like being dependent on her when she clearly needed to be with her family but she had given him no choice. She had looked after him back when he was just the mindless Winter Soldier, forgiven him, saved him, put his arm back in his socket like it had been no fuss. She had given him a place to stay even if it was shadowed in grief – her mother who looked exactly like her was clearly devastated by Smith's death but had hid it well when she'd made him breakfast that morning and chattered to him in a chirpy voice. His responses had been monosyllabic as he had been uncomfortable watching her make him food as he worn her dead husband's clothes but the guilt of his lackluster attempts of conversation had forced him to be polite. Bucky was used to being polite; polite was his nature in fact. But the Winter Soldier wasn't. He didn't like being dependent on people in any capacity.

To be completely fair to Mallory, he had gone to _her_ apartment after Steve had brought him back to humanity. Initially after he'd pulled him out of the water he had wandered the forests of D.C as a lonely, lost and frankly pathetic creature, planning on living off the land when the pain of his arm had gotten to him and he'd found himself back on the busy streets of D.C. It had taken ages but he'd known Mallory's address from... well he couldn't quite remember why yet and found himself breaking into her apartment, weakly explaining to the landlord who had asked why he was fumbling with her locks that he was her brother and she'd locked him out. And he'd waited for her in the dark, his hair dripping wet over the bed she shared with the bastard Rumlow praying that she'd return and when she had, the reliable girl she was, she had fixed him like always and given him a home for the time being.

He turned his attention to the eulogy he was reading:

_Captured by HYDRA troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, depression and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America. _

"Can you remember that?" She had asked that question a thousand times as they had weaved their way through the exhibition. She was so inquisitive. He remembered that from what he could recall of the sessions they had spent in that damned lab. She'd bought him food as well, the only doctor to ever go that far. What was it again? He couldn't remember the name but he could remember the taste. Cheesy with the undercurrent of tomatoes, with a slightly burnt crust but delicious all the same. He'd have to remember to ask her the name of it. He'd never had it before, even when he was Bucky.

He shrugged in response to her question. "Vaguely."

She met his gaze and smiled weakly, then her eyes trailed over his clothing. He wore her boyfriends shirt, her father's pants and shoes and hat, and her mother's jacket. He was a mash of bad and good memories for her and James noted with guilt that she swallowed tightly as her eyes roamed the shirt on his back. He'd have to find something else to wear soon. He couldn't have her wanting to cry every time she looked at his clothes. She had cried last night. James hadn't mentioned it but his hearing was sharp enough to hear how she had attempted to muffle her tears with a pillow and the gasping sobs that had kept him awake. What had she been crying over? To be honest, she had a lot of things to cry over. Her boyfriend, her father, him. Her eyes were red even now as she looked at him, and she was paler then usual looking frail and thin in jeans and a blue shirt under her jacket he was sure she had worn to sleep in the night before.

He shook his head to free himself of those thoughts and stared around the Smithsonian. Families weaved in and out of the display cabinets, interest in the Captain America exhibition reignited since his part in the dismemberment of S.H.I.E.L.D and his current place in hospital. Groups of children on a field trip cried out with glee as a tour guide pointed to Steve's old motorcycle he'd used in the war and how it had a button which made it go 'extra extra fast'. James wanted to call her out on her crap and correct her with the scientific mumbo jumbo Steve had attempted to explain to him over drinks one night.

Wow. He had remembered a new thing without going dizzy. Sometimes he had realized, unwittingly he would look at something seemingly uninteresting and his senses would then be assaulted with a new memory coming to the forefront of his vision. Usually it was accompanied by a sharp stab in his skull, and the sensation of going dizzy. It had happened to him in the shower he'd used in Mallory's mother's home. As the water sprayed him he remembered the time before he had fallen from the train, standing atop a cliff with his best friend getting ready to zip-wire across onto the damned train and feeling the snowflakes landing cold on his neck. He had almost fallen with the pain, steadying himself on the tile wall. Perhaps over time it would get less painful.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" She took his silence for a dismissal.

He jolted and looked to her with alarm. "No."

She nodded and her easy smile soothed his panic almost instantly. It was embarrassing really. The Winter Soldier reduced to some anxious broken child being cared for by an equally as broken doctor.

"Okay. I won't leave."

Her spoken assurance relaxed him and he pressed his forehead to the glass, his breath fogging up the screen as he tried to breathe in deeply. The noise faded to a background buzz and beside him Mallory rested her back against the glass, close enough for comfort but not able to touch him. He had been so lost in his new memories that when she had hugged him he hadn't been aware that he didn't like the sensation but now despite their familiarity there was something about being touched by other people that set his skin alight horribly. Over time, perhaps that would lessen as well. Bucky had found it so easy, loving to hug and touch and kiss others. The Winter Soldier hadn't done it before. And James... well he was just a mess.

He found it easier to separate himself into three people. Bucky was his past, his easy past which had ended in heartbreak and the man he aspired to become again. The Winter Soldier was also his past, his terrible past which he aspired to forget completely as more memories began flooding in of the horrific things he had done. And James was his present, a confusing mess of both and a new man emerging from the fog. As he remembered more and more of Bucky he also remembered more of the Winter Soldier. He cringed at those memories. When he had finally fallen asleep he was plagued with visions of the prison and Mallory's horrified face when he'd completed his mission there. She hadn't looked at him for weeks after that.

"Did you hate me?" He said suddenly. "After what I did with Kohl?"

She stiffened and seemed to have trouble controlling her breathing. She thought hard, transporting herself back to that moment with a small crease appearing in her forehead.

"For a time. A long time." She answered finally, then a small smile appeared on her face at the memory. "You made it better though."

"I did?" Surprise was evident in his tone. He didn't think he had been capable of being kind when he was the Soldier. "How?"

"You made me feel better. For a time I thought I'd failed Sofia and Ariadne because I'd... I'd allowed her to die but you made it easier for me. You told me that his death was on you, not me. And that Sofia losing her mom and her leg wasn't my fault." She swallowed and her smile lost its brightness. "You said 'sometimes all you can do is watch them die'."

"I said that?"

"Yeah. You don't remember?" He shook his head and colour came to her cheeks, for which he was glad as she looked less like a mannequin. "Sorry. Dumb question. Well it worked. I stopped blaming you and myself. It reminded me that it wasn't your fault, that you were just following orders and you had no free will. I never said thank you by the way." She said suddenly.

He shook his head, uncomfortable. "No need."

She took a step to him like she was going to touch him then thought more of it and pulled her arm back; for that by itself his affection for her increased substantially like it had last night. "There is a need though. You helped me more than I'd like to admit."

"Is that why you're keeping me around? To make you feel less guilty?" His words were sharp and as she flinched he knew they'd stung. Guilt surged through him and he felt some of his old self come to the surface. "I didn't-"

The blush had vanished but then after a second she smiled. "That's exactly why I'm keeping you around. I hate feeling guilty. Only I can guilt trip me. That and my mom."

It took him a second to realize she was trying to lighten the mood and it worked. He rewarded her with a brief smile and she grinned back.

He turned back to the face in front of him, then stepped from the exhibition. The walls felt closed in and he was finding it a little hard to take it all in. His eyes roamed the hall for anything he missed before he could make his escape and he shifted uncomfortably under the borrowed jacket and shirt, his arm feeling heavier then ever.

"Can we go? I can't..." He trailed off, hoping she'd understand.

Mallory smiled in that gentle way of hers and nodded. "Of course."

As they left the Smithsonian, James pushed his cap off a little from his head and felt the warm sun outside. As much as he didn't like the feeling of being looked after he knew when he got back to Julie's home he would be asked if he wanted anything to drink or eat and informed of their plans of dinner. He would be looked after even though the family were going through some terribly hard times, given clothes, a bed, a shower. He would eat in a slightly uncomfortable silence but it was an easy price to pay for delicious tasting food and the chance to strain to think of more memories of his childhood best friend or his hometown or his part in the war.

As much as he hated to admit it and wanted to recover his old self, the Bucky that dangled within his reach but seemed so far, James Buchanan Barnes was reborn. And he was home for now.

It had been five days since the downing of the Triskelion and at first, all Brock Rumlow could think about was the pain.

He learnt later on he had been unconscious when the fire had caught him. Some fallen debris had cracked his skull so he'd been out for the most painful part, the doctor had told him almost joyfully. Of course the idiot, who looked like he'd just passed his exams, had never actually been caught in a fire before or burned beyond a simple domestic burn off an oven. He had been out when the recovery team had found him and taken him into the ambulance, and they'd sedated him further for the initial treatment. When he'd woken it was like a punch in the gut; no it was worse than that. Like somebody had stabbed him multiple times all over his body then rolled him in acid. It wasn't just horrible it was _excruciating_. The morphine had dulled it as first but somewhere in his skull he had gotten the idea that it would be good for him to feel the pain, so he'd know in his recovery how bad it had been.

What a fucking dumb idea, he'd scolded himself later. As the morphine had worn off it had crept up on him like an unwitting fly crawling up someone's leg on a summers day. But he couldn't swat this pain away. He couldn't think beyond his desire to scream out in pain and he couldn't put that scream into action as his throat was on fire. Everywhere was on fire. When he'd opened his eyes, red filled his vision and his mind tortured him with dancing flames. He couldn't move to press the button to fill his veins with any type of painkiller. Then he'd passed out again, flitting in an out of a red existence for what felt like decades.

When he'd woke the pain was gone and he'd almost cried with ecstasy at whoever had filled his veins. The nurse filled his mouth with ice chips and encouraged him to swallow them with a soft voice and a pleasant bedside manner. When their coolness dulled the burn in his throat he wanted to kiss her. But he was in love with another and he'd had to with making a noise in the back of his throat to indicated he wanted more.

Later he'd started thinking beyond the pain. Recalling through the foggy mists of morphine, he realized that he couldn't feel his feet at all yet his shins and thighs ached like hell. When he'd croaked to the nurse why she had smiled at him with sympathy.

"I think you should ask the doctor that when he comes, honey, not me."

He did just that and the doctor had gave him the same sad smile.

"Do you understand the classification of burns and the difference between them?" Outwardly he nodded mutely but inwardly he wanted to snap _of course I do you fucking asshole, I've inflicted those burns on other people I know what they look like. _"Well then you'll know that third degree burns have little to no pain because they kill off nerve endings. Your feet are a prime example of this. That's why you can't feel them."

So his feet were fucked. Everywhere else was pretty much a second or first degree burn and he had been assured his scarring on his face would be minimal if any. He was assured he would heal in time. Luckily the fire had been a natural fire and not electrical or chemical as apparently that would make things worse. As if a normal fire wasn't bad enough. They'd kept mirrors from him as sometimes the visual of the injury could cause shock but he'd caught sight of himself in the glass one day accidentally when going to the toilet and his breathing caught in his throat. _Minimal scarring my ass._ His face was a mess of burns. The face so many women had called handsome was gone. Red puckered blisters covered his cheeks and forehead, the skin red as if he'd been caught by the sun in the worst way possible. His eyes stood out but they were weak, watery with tears of pain, both emotional and physical. Any facial expression he attempted to pull ended in pain and even when he grimaced with pain as his reflex it sent a shooting spasm through his gut.

He stared at himself for what felt like ages. He stared till it didn't hurt. He stared until he could look impassively, his face settled into a look of indifference. He stared till he was sick.

On the fourth day, Rumlow had rolled carefully on his side to greet his new doctor who specialized in these type of accidents and saw she had the exact same shade eyes as Mallory's. And for a second, his heart had actually skipped a beat as shown on the monitor beside him, making her eyes widen in alarm and ask if he was okay.

_Mallory. _Even her name caused his chest to cave in with pain worse then anything a fire could throw at him. He had been trying not to think of her name, the girl whose heart he had smashed into a thousand pieces with lies. He wondered if she was aware of his situation; he wondered if she even cared. It seemed so obvious in the bank that she was through with him and that had killed him to watch her leave with her father and not even look back. She'd been in his arms and he was glad she had turned to him for comfort after watching the Soldier be wiped when she'd suddenly stiffened. It was then he just knew. Those words. The defeated look in her eyes.

"_Don't touch me. Don't you fucking touch me. __And don't deny it. I found the bug. Rumlow, I know." _

The words rang in his skull. Soon after she had escaped her fathers house and went off the grid she had sent Rumlow into a panic causing him to threaten every single tech that HYDRA owned to find her otherwise he'd make them regret the day they joined. He remembered his exact words to David, Mallory's technician friend, when he'd informed him her cellphone couldn't be tracked and she had gone completely.

"_How fucking hard can it be to find her?!" He'd reached over and had the technician by his neck his face quickly turning red. "Find her or you die."_

But ironically, it had been Rumlow who had found her. Her voice on the phone. She had been so convincing, he'd forgotten every single second of his training as she ran to him and she had enveloped him. Mallory had once again seeped into his pores and he was there with the woman he loved. He hadn't even been all too bothered when it turned out she had betrayed him and joined the opposing team because she was alive and near him once again.

Yes he loved her now but he hadn't at the start, even he could confess that. Seeing her for the first time was like seeing a stranger in a crowd and being told they were a very famous actor or musician. That moment of disbelief. His first thoughts as she approached him were _this is the woman who is causing Pierce so much trouble? _She was a little thing, doe eyed and brown haired, smiling and nonthreatening. Pretty but plain to be honest. She looked as if she had never been unhappy in her entire life.

Their first date had been... weird. Some restaurant somewhere, where she had talked a lot about herself and Rumlow, unlike other contracts similar to this one had actually listened. He could still recall the story of her scar or how she had looked in that dress or how her face had automatically frowned due to his naming of Romanoff as a "bitch" then rearranged into a polite smile. And Rumlow had gone home with the deep feeling of a crush beginning to emerge and trying to convince himself to go to damn sleep and stop thinking of her entire face would light up with laughter and how her eyes really were the colour of chocolate.

Their second date was better, much better. Since her father had a hand in the mission details no sexual entanglement with the target was needed. But that hadn't stopped him. There was a moment when – and he couldn't remember when exactly, maybe after he saw the bit where she'd given the teddy to the little girl – he had looked at her and it all clicked and he'd made love to her, everything had become real. He was even guilty that he'd already bugged her apartment. Their relationship became something he'd never had before, an easy love born of mutual affection and his desire to just be with her and not even say anything. With his past fiancee Ava, the one who had softened his heart just enough for him to feel anything, it had been a love of intense passion and almost forbidden love. But if he was honest he'd take some crappy action movie and a pizza with Mallory in his lap over Ava and their midnight rendezvous any day.

And so Mallory haunted his thoughts day and night. Brown hair splayed over a pillow danced in his vision amongst the hardness of her slap she had given him. Listening to her endless serenades of her favourite song to the shower head as he brushed his teeth would always stay with him. She had been there when he'd almost died in that fucking building but he loved her too much to blame her. It was the other man's fault, the Falcon. If he hadn't of been on that floor, he'd have never had to fight him and fall to his almost death.

He had died for HYDRA but now HYDRA was gone. HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D... they were all the same to him now. A near death experience put things in perspective. Organizations putting forward a front of control in different ways, S.H.I.E.L.D with a gentle approach and HYDRA hard hitting and sneaky. They didn't really care about the people. S.H.I.E.L.D had after all just dumped it's entire database online including all of its secrets and HYDRA's. This put so much at risk, much he knew about and even more he didn't. Himself but Mallory more importantly. Many players would want to see what the pretty little doctor who had nursed their important assassin would have to say about the Winter Soldier.

He lay back on the bed and his thoughts swirled of Mallory and he fell to sleep.


	22. Civil War

The sequel is up! First chapter is there!

Go read it if you want. I hope you like it!

I hope you all have a great day my wonderful readers! Much love! xx


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